I couldn’t believe my eyes.

ME? A bitch?

But there it was in black and white in a note stashed in my daughter’s purse. My daughter, my baby, the one my world revolves around, thinks I’m a bitch.

Was she showing off? Or trying to be “cool” in front of her friends? Maybe. But me – a bitch? No way. We’re the Lorelei and Rory Gilmore girls. We’re friends. I’m the hip mom. Yeah, so she’s fourteen. Yeah, so this is normal. Yeah, I’m supposed to want normal.

But, the B word? Ouch!

I didn’t know why that word hit me so hard. I was well aware of other ones used to describe my parenting techniques that never fazed me – about how I’m obsessed, mean, strict, overprotective. I’ve known for a long time how she feels about me. According to her, I’m too focused on keeping her safe, teaching her too much, making her work too hard. She can’t ride with new drivers, has an early curfew, has to write book reports for me -- not just for school -- has to go to museums and plays when she would rather watch MTV.

But I’ve heard all the stories about where she could be instead. The blow jobs on the bus, kids sneaking out of movies and miraculously showing up in the parking lot to meet their parents just in time, molesters on MySpace.com. We watched “March of the Penguins” and I explained that I’m just doing what the penguins are doing – taking her to the thickest part of the ice so she won’t get close to the water until she’s ready. She’s my one and only and I’m too old to make any more. Nothin’s gonna hurt this kid -- not if I can help it.

But after seeing the B word, I decided to make some changes and take that word out of her vocabulary. Relax the boundaries a bit. Give in some more. I could be nice all of the time, couldn’t I? It’s just another four years. If I’m the Perfect Mom then she’ll love me more and will never think a negative thought about me. We’ll be different. Maybe not normal, but better - the first case of an idyllic mother-daughter relationship.

Well, that lasted about two days. One night she announced that she wouldn’t be going to softball try-outs the following day. Her friend, Lauren, wasn’t going and she didn’t know anybody else on the team. I took a deep breath and tried not to raise my voice. I remembered my new goal - parenting sans negativity. But I couldn’t stop the words. I looked at her and said, “Yes, you are going to softball try-outs, whether you like it or not. And while you’re at it, call Lauren and some other kids and tell them to go with you.” She looked furious and huffed out of the room. I knew what she was thinking - I could almost hear it. It was unbelievable. I couldn’t go for more than two days without telling her what to do. I made her so mad.

But not five minutes later, she bounded back into my room with a smile on her face and congratulated herself. She had encouraged Lauren and two other girls to join the team with her and was looking forward to playing again. She hugged me and kissed me good night. Of course she didn’t come right out and actually give me credit or anything for changing her mind or strengthening the team. But as she walked away, I realized that the Perfect Mom would have lost that battle, and in the long run my daughter would have lost out, too.

I may be obsessed, mean, strict and overprotective; I’m O.K. with that.

But a bitch?

Yep. And I’m embracing it!