Took Mo shopping today and I was reminded of when I was growing up. My mom and I didn’t have much of an open relationship when it came to talking about girl things.
I didn’t want to tell her anything unless it was absolutely necessary that I did so so thankfully my daughter talks to me.
This week has been a strange one but I knew it was coming sooner or later. Not that she’s gotten THaT change yet but you know it’s just around the corner somewhere when her moods are extreme.
This week she was crying about a boy. I felt bad for her because I remember how those days felt but my mom never took the time to help me understand anything. She was mostly glib to bitter and standoffish at the thought of it. Maybe the way she grew up left her bitter.
Having grown up now, I understand her better than I did when I was a kid and I have forgiven everything and love her twice as much because I can see how she struggled and did her best to help me not repeat her mistakes.
So when it came to my own daughter and her crying about a boy who doesn’t reciprocate the feeling, the best I could do was let her know that no one should have the sort of control over how she feels about herself.
I told her that boys who make your feel bad aren’t the right boys for her. I told her that her dad never makes me feel bad…well except for the occasionally when he does something stupid BUT that is bound to happen after so many years.
I think she understood although the next couple days she felt like she should do her hair and she wore a skirt. That’s something she hasn’t done since third grade when she became smitten by Ninjago, Jerassic Park, and Mind Craft.
So today when she was beating around the bush about the bra section and how uncomfortable it made her feel, it made me think of when I went through that and didn’t make a big deal and told her she should feel ashamed of her body.
She’s growing up so fast. It still feels like it wasn’t that long ago when she was a chubby cheeked pipsqueek running around as carefree as the wind. I do miss those days.
Those were easy days. I used to think that it would get easier. In some ways it has because I am not constantly on edge hoping to catch her before she falls on something sharp or runs in front of a car. I have my other daughter to spend that worry on but there are other things.
Teaching her how to cook, getting after her about responsibility and doing chores and getting good grades etc.
I think I am a pretty easy mom. She does make fun of me for nagging but I tell her I wouldn’t do that if she’d listen to me the first time. Seeing your daughters cry, the real cry, the kind that you know hurt them emotionally, that’s always tough.
The last time I heard her cry the same way was when she was in first grade starting at a new school and she didn’t know why some kids didn’t like her.
Being grown up, it is hard to explain these things to your babies but at least with time, her vocabulary expands and finding the right words to help her understand these things gets a little easier but it never takes away their pain.
I know we will have many more times that I will wish I had magical powers to make it hurt go away. My hope is that she will always talk to me and that in the event she ever gets into real trouble, I don’t lose my mind in rage or something because if that happens, it would be like closing the door.
Anyway. It so interesting that even in suffering, growth happens.