On My Daughter’s 18th Birthday

May 3, 2012 By
mothers and daughters

photo: chicken-scratch.ca (google)

What I wanted most for my daughter was that she be able to soar confidently in her own sky, whatever that may be. 

– Helen Claes

It was 18 years ago this morning, May 4th, at 4:55 am, that I first held you, my beautiful girl in my arms.  I was young.  So young.  But, I wanted a baby, and you  were the one for me.  I remember being pregnant, and dreaming of a dark, curly-haired moppet with white skin and ruby lips running through a field towards me. And, that’s exactly what I got.  I got you.

 

Daughter of mine, the time has flown so fast, that if I try to stop and catch a breath, a moment with you will be lost forever.  Its like I blinked once and we were celebrating your first birthday.  I blinked again, and you were off to school.  Blink, and you turned 13, and made us so proud as you read from the Torah at your Bat Mitzvah.  Then you turned 16, learned to drive, got your first job, and your second.  Each of those milestones was exciting. This one, unlike the others, I hate to say, is breaking my heart just a tiny little bit.

 

It’s hard for me to admit it, but this birthday means you’re one minute closer to leaving us.  As of today, you’re an adult.  In two months you graduate from high school, and a few after that, off you go to follow your dreams.  I’m not melancholy because I worry about you.  I know that whatever you do, it will be fantastic.  Because, that’s just how you roll.  I’m melancholy because I want to keep you close, not let you go.

 

Even though we have some spectacularly explosive mother daughter moments, the kind that tear us apart for moments at a time, I know that they are necessary so you can grow, so you can flex your muscles as a strong and independent woman.  As you emerge from the years of teen angst, and finally begin to draw closer to us once again, it’s time for you to spread your wings and fly away.  So, I promise you, I will let those difficult times just fade away, and let them be lost amongst my hoarded memories of precious moments together, of your sweet smiles, and of even the briefest of hugs.

 

My girl, you are so incredible. You bear an amazing strength of conviction, honesty, and most of all, incredible self-confidence.  I can’t imagine another young woman your age who knows who she is, what she wants, and more importantly, what she doesn’t, like you do.  I know I wasn’t at all like that.  You are so much better than I was at your age, and for that, I truly admire you.

 

You are so talented-your eyes see beauty where mine see nothing.   Your fingers can create, your body moves to the music like no one is watching. When you smile the world lights up around you.  You are magical.

 

My daughter, my sweet baby girl, on today, your 18th birthday, I wish for you the stars.  I wish for you everything and then add to that infinity.  I wish great love for you, wherever you find it.   I wish that your dreams, whatever they may be, come true and if they don’t, that you make them happen.  I wish for you all of the beauty of the world, but the sadness too, because sadness makes you stronger and sadness makes the happy moments seem even more joyful.

 

My Sky, I know that forever you will be mine, and I will be yours.  Because you come from my dreams. And that’s forever.

 

There’s something like a line of gold thread running through a man’s words when he talks to his daughter, and gradually over the years it gets to be long enough for you to pick up in your hands and weave into a cloth that feels like love itself. 

– John Gregory Brown

 

Filed Under: Getting Older, Kids, Life, Teenagers Tagged With: , , , , , , ,

The Valium Chronicles: Going-Out Advice to My Teenager

October 29, 2011 By

Girls Gone Wild.

My daughter left yesterday for her first trip away with friends.  They took the train to Montreal to ‘have fun’ (as she put it).  Although she is 17, and the drinking age in Montreal is 18, I can clearly imagine what the ‘fun’ will entail.  Before you judge me, I don’t condone any types of illegal activity or teenage drinking. But, realize that I’m not stupid, and more importantly, I need my girl to know that I’m not stupid.  It’s better that she doesn’t lie to me, and understand perfectly well that I’m aware of what she and her friends are doing, and be told this from HER mouth, rather than see get a big surprise when I see the evidence on Facebook. This is how I keep her SAFE. Also, I’d have to back track and freak out on her afterwards.  That would completely go into the not fun area of parenting.

Its hard to imagine your babies growing up.  But they do.  And they go to Montreal, or wherever, and to University Hallowe’en parties, and wear Barbie costumes and makeup, and smile at older boys. They have to. It’s life.  But life is more complicated now. Teenagers have too many choices, too many wrong paths to take.

When I was a teenager, my parents’ advice consisted of:

-Don’t be stupid

-Be home by 12 or else

I’m not kidding. That was it.  There were no cell phones to reach me with, and they figured they’d raised me right, and / or they didn’t think there was a whole lot of trouble to be gotten into.  Truth was, I was a bit of a goody two shoes, and although there was probably trouble to be found, mostly I stayed out of it (or so goes the party line.)

Obviously, the world is different these days.  Not only do teenagers party more, drink more, and think they’re smarter, they are so connected that word of any excitement gets around faster than Superman can change in his phone booth (what’s a phone booth, you ask?  Forget it you’re too young to be reading this)

Plus, there’s a whole new world of drugs out there much more extensive than the ubiquitous pot that was readily available ‘in my day’.   According towww.drugfreeworld.com, these are the street names for ecstasy alone.

Ecstasy street names

OBVIOUSLY, the best advice is ‘Don’t Drink at all.’  (The advice of  ’Don’t Do Drugs. You Could Die.’ is non-negotiable, and actually agreed upon by both of us). But, while her following the drinking advice would be highly desirable, the probability of it being the actuality is not that…umm..probable.  So,because its ultimately important to me, as her parent, to to keep her safe,  I talk to my kid before she goes out into the world as an adult in a frank and non-judgemental way.

This is the advice I gave to her  (along with the usual ‘You’d better answer my text messages within 3 minutes or I’m hunting you down.’ She calls this stalking-I don’t know why):

  • Don’t leave your drink unattended. EVER EVER EVER EVER
  • Don’t invite anybody you meet back to your hotel room. They will text it out and you’ll have a trashed hotel and be out on the street, before you can blink. Or, they’ll be psychokillers, and then..(well, unimaginable).
  • Don’t get drunk and walk around the street tippling over and barfing into an alley.  Not to mention dangerous, its really not classy at all.Don’t get drunk and act stupid, more specifically, don’t get so drunk that you don’t know you’re so drunk and acting stupid.
  • Don’t wear a skirt so short you can see your panties (she assured me, by the way, that she was wearing booty shorts under her Barbie costume).
  • Don’t post ‘Girls Gone Wild’ pictures on your Facebook, particularly in a live play by play manner.
  • Those boys are ‘older’ (I didn’t elaborate, but she knew what I meant).
  • If you sense trouble, get out. No fun is worth trouble.
  • Use your brains. Don’t take drugs. Eat your vegetables. Act like I raised you.

And off she went with her little suitcase, some cash, and probably a mickey hidden in her purse.  And I cried, just a little.

Filed Under: Life Lessons, Teenagers, The Valium Chronicles Tagged With: , , , , , ,

Time Melting

October 25, 2011 By
mémoires (source: virose.pt)

Memories.  Like the corners of my mind. Misty watercolored memories. Of the way we were. Scattered pictures…

This was one of the first songs that I played (quite badly) on piano as a child.  As I get older, as my children get older, the lyrics start to actually make sense, maybe even mean much more.  This song, from the movie, The Way We Were, starring the inimitable Barbra Streisand, and the forever awesome Robert Redford, illuminates to me the feeling of time passing, of our inability to grasp and hold those fleeting moments we call every day.

I was falling asleep the other night, and I realized that my carefully curated memories- of my children’s baby and toddler days, of  those early years of primary school- are fading.  What used to be vivid Technicolor visions are now water-coloured, diluted by the new memories that have been built on top.  I don’t know if its aging (sometimes I say that my brain is just full), or that time is just passing at hyper speed but I feel like I’m grasping at reminiscence, trying to hold on to these thoughts so I don’t lose them.

When my babies were small, I’d walk into the house and yell, ‘Mommy’s home.’ I’d hear little feet pounding the floor, gleeful screams of ‘Mommy, Mommy’ then faces, legs, arms smashing into me, squeezing, hugging, nearly knocking me over.  That feels like yesterday, except those days are long gone. Disappeared into high school, tweenhood, almost university.  But still, every single time I walk in the door I call out  ’Mommy’s home.’ Sometimes forgetting, sometimes hoping that I can turn the clock back for one moment.  Then, I could have the warmth of the baby’s breath on my neck, a pj’d body snuggling in my bed, a spaghetti-covered face smiling up at me.  Then, I could re-make that memory, make it full of colour once again.

Those days are all now melted into one silent movie called life.  They’re like sepia-toned versions of the past, vague, fleeting, impossible to grasp.

On the upside, now that I’ve stopped crying, I’ll be 48 when my last kid goes off to University. And then ME AND THE HUBS WILL BE ABLE TO PARTY LIKE ITS 1999.  Without having to rely on walkers.


Filed Under: Getting Older, Kids, Life Tagged With: , , , , ,