Teen...2/4/11

When Savanna was 4 years old, she nonchalantly proclaimed, "I want to start wearing bows!"

Savanna might as well have been letting loose a string of curse words.  I wanted to wash her mouth out with soap.   Surely she said, "I want to start shooting 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."


This year Savanna nonchalantly proclaimed, "I want to learn to bake."

"What?" I exclaimed in disbelief.   "Couldn't you just go and do some drugs or something?"

If you had asked me 15 years ago what  words I would never want my daughter to string together sequentially, it would be:

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.


one who was on the ski team who now has a son on the ski team; the 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 that 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 can pause from pelting myself with over-analyzations and self-doubt, I can let the gift of motherhood engulf me with gratitude, that I am somehow lucky enough to be an observer to my children being and becoming and finding the things that bring them joy.
.................................................................................................................................................................

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.When Savanna was 4 years old, she nonchalantly proclaimed, "I want to start wearing bows!"

Savanna might as well have been letting loose a string of curse words.  I wanted to wash her mouth out with soap.   Surely she said, "I want to start shooting 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."


This year Savanna nonchalantly proclaimed, "I want to learn to bake."

"What?" I exclaimed in disbelief.   "Couldn't you just go and do some drugs or something?"

If you had asked me 15 years ago what  words I would never want my daughter to string together sequentially, it would be:

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.

Reverse 40 years.  My mother is asked to list the things she never wants to hear her daughters say.
1.  I want to quit piano and play soccer
2.  I'm biking home from work 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 until 5 minutes before it started.