I can still remember the exact location on 2nd Avenue in downtown Spokane, where Savanna, who was then 4 years old, nonchalantly proclaimed, "I want to start wearing bows!"
She might as well have been letting loose a string of curse words. My ear jerk reaction was to wash her mouth out with soap, but concluded that before I was so hasty in my punishment, I should probably clarify her statement. Maybe she had said, "I want to start shooting with bows," or possibly "I want to start tearing up bows."
"What?" I exclaimed in disbelief as my sister, Elizabeth, sat in the passenger seat laughing her pre-motherhood head off. I stopped the car and turned around forcefully. What did you just say?
"I want to put bows in my hair. Colorful bows."
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This year, Savanna, in similar fashion, casually declared, "I want to learn to bake."
"What?" I clamored in alarm, as I scraped the black ash off the burned grilled cheese sandwiches. "Couldn't you just go and do some drugs or something?"
If someone had asked me 15 years ago to list what words I would never want my daughter to string together sequentially, the list would include:
1. I want to start wearing bows.
2. I want a Barbie birthday cake.
3. I want to learn to bake.
4. I would rather eat worms than go skiing.
Savanna has uttered these words in these exact grammatical units.
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My daughter hates the things that I love and I hate the things that she loves.
For the first six months of her life, Savanna would not allow a part of me be to untouched by some part of her. I could not leave her sight without a wail. It was onerous, exhausting, and completely wonderful. At some point in the last 12 years, a magnetic pole reversed. The closer I try to move toward Savanna, the more forcefully I am repelled, and I would curl my hair and bake a cake every day for forever if I could retrieve just one of those days when she wouldn't let go of my leg. I can think of a dozen friends in a minute who have children who share their hobbies, strengths, and talents.... one with a beautiful voice who now listens to her daughter's vocal performances; one who was on the ski team and now has a son on the ski team; one who posts facebook photos of her and her daughter enjoying a pedicure together. Blah Blah Blah. You get the picture.
I really didn't expect or want my kids to be carbon copies of me, and in a way, it is comforting to know that who they are is independent of my influence, given that my mothering techniques are similar to a pin ball machine, lacking any real controlling narrative.
One of the hardest things about being a mother is that it is a relationship that scours me completely, exposing all of the weaknesses which I thought I had cleverly tucked away in the shadows of my soul.
There is so much that I won't be able to give to my children, so much of myself that I hope I don't give to them, and so much that I want to give them and can give them that they will likely reject.
When I pause from pelting myself with over-analyzations and self-doubt, I can allow an easiness of motherhood to engulf me. This gift is welcomed with gratitude and awe. I am at peace with my role as just an observer to these children being and becoming and finding the things that bring them joy.
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Rewind 40 years. My mother's lists of words she never wants to hear her daughter say includes:
1. I want to quit piano and play soccer
2. I'm biking home from school in the dark.
3. I don't really want a bed in my room. It takes up too much space.
4. I'm going wear cockleburrs in my hair to High School graduation because I was hiking in the scrub brush until 5 minutes before it started.
Hmmmm. On second thought, Savanna and I do share our love of doing the exact opposite of what our mother's would like us to do.
Fast forward 40 years: After a lovely long hike with my granddaughter, we return home to a warm pie baked by Savanna
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Happy Birthday Savanna! I will love you and respect you, regardless of what you choose to love.
1 comment:
I bet that very soon she's going to throwing around erudite words like you do in your blog posts, what with all the advanced classes she's in and the avid reader that she is. Hey, you guys both like to read. There's something.
I've told you once and I'll tell you again, you should be grateful that she isn't begging you to wear a bunch of makeup or listening to crappy hiphop music. Or reading all the Twilight books and going to the midnight showings of the Twilight movies when they come out. Really, you're one lucky lady and I'm keeping my fingers crossed that Belén turns out half as cool as Savanna.
And baking. Well, you get to reap the benefits, too, if she pursues baking. Encourage her to start with a cheesecake recipe.
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