YOURS TRULY, REBEL DAUGHTER

So we thought, wouldn’t it be fun to hear the other side of the story?

I recently asked my girlfriend’s 21 year old daughter, Margo, to take few minutes out of her trés-cool life to contribute to our #RebelMama forum. Lucky for us, not only is the girl an English Major at U of T, she also interns at Narcity, where her hilarious accounts of all things Toronto earn her some serious cred. Plus she also runs her own blog (SomeWhatThrilled), OBVS.

So what’s it like to be the grown spawn of OG Rebel Mama, Anousch (and likely a somewhat like your very own young adult of a daughter)? And what are some of the things she thinks YOU could be schooled on, Ma?

We’ve got your insider info right here. And it’s pretty funny.

Yours Truly, Rebel Daughter

I just turned 21. Only a decade ago, I imagined myself already engaged, wearing pantsuits and talking business into a Britney Spears-inspired earpiece; and probably because my mom was planning her wedding at this age, I figured I would too.

In reality, I’m very single, own only ripped jeans and text dank memes on my cracked iPhone. While I have a few friends who are planning a wedding or buying organic diapers, I’m too busy bleaching my jet black hair to a Debbie-Harry-blonde. While some people find maternity a miracle – which it is – and children a blessing – which they are – I can’t help but gag at the idea of having a child right now. Hell, I’m still a child. And to think a year after her 21^st, my mother was breastfeeding me. Cringe.

The idea of cradling a child in one arm and the responsibilities that come with raising said child in the other, is fucking terrifying. Yeah, it’s also great. But I’m sure behind my mom’s cool demeanor was absolute fear.

Possible hypothetical questions going through her mind: “what If she fails school?”, “what if she gets a bunch of tattoos?” and even worse, “what if she loves punk rock?” Well, I did fail a course, I definitely have tattoos and, damn, I do love punk rock (sorry Ma!). But, I think I turned out OK.

I’d like to think I’m my mother 2.0 – complete with more advanced software and faster processing. I’d like to think most kids are a better version of their parents. Maybe there’s some psychological explanation to this, but call Freud for that… Anyway, I digress.

To my mom, and all moms, this one’s for you. To remind you even though you’re not Lorelai, you’re still cool.

Now it’s my turn to give you some advice, Ma.

You think you’re the only wise one? Please. If there’s one thing that proves I’m your kid, it’s my wise-ass. “You don’t have to take my advice, but you have to hear it…”

Learn to type with both hands!!! The whole point of evolution was to use our opposable thumbs…
And how to use iTunes. I’m pretty sure if you call me one more time during lecture just to figure out how to download a George Michael song, I will get expelled.
You know how you know when I’m lying? Well I know when you’re lying too, so don’t bother.
Candy Crush kills brain cells. Stop.
Just because I won’t make your mistakes, doesn’t mean I won’t make my own. So when I do, all I need is your shoulder and Jamocha Almond Fudge.
Don’t forget to invest in yourself, ma!! I am only as good as you are.
I love that my friends love you. But please stop being cooler than me when they’re around.
When you ask to use my computer, do not, I repeat DO NOT, close my tabs.
Your unsolicited advice in not unappreciated.
If I like an outfit, do not tell me you don’t like it. Commentary on the fit, material and design are fine, but do not tell me you “don’t like it”.
Refer to 10 literally but also as a metaphor for everything/one I like in life.
BE YOURSELF. But not in public ;).
I’m not going tell you not to worry, because I know you will. Just breathe. I do better when you do better. The best thing you’ve done for me is give me space when I need it, like how I give you space when you pee. (jk, I never let you pee in peace).