Dear N,
Fifteen seems big...perhaps even bigger than 16.
But maybe that's just me.
I had a much harder time turning 29 than I did turning 30.
I guess it's the cusp of things that get me all discombobulated.
Fear not, though.
Your mother will not get all grossly sentimental because that's not my style.
You are halfway through your freshman year, and you've had an easy and fun time of it, I think.
Making the field hockey team and earning good grades your first semester and joining a new Girl Scout troop and playing in an orchestral ensemble.
All good things.
A boyfriend entered the picture this fall, a situation I took better than you did.
You were terrified by how I would react.
I was like, "Why are you crying? Is he a serial killer?"
But I followed up with, "Honey, this is normal."
Or as normal as anything is.
In this family, we have a pretty large sliding scale for normal.
You're an easy kid to parent.
Mostly.
About the biggest gripe I have is that you're a chronic putzer.
You putz in the morning, which is understandable, but you putz at all other times of the day, too.
Perhaps the most frequent phrases I hear from you are, "I'm tired" and "Can I have a hug?"
I predict the next year will see you come even more into your own person, perhaps figuring out some interests you have that you could envision yourself doing as an adult.
Or not.
This might be the area in which you take after your mom, not figuring out what you want to do until your mid-20s and only sorta sticking with it in your mid-40s.
You already seem pretty comfortable in your own skin.
I've seen you walk out of the house some days and think to myself, "She really and truly does not care in the least what anyone thinks of her."
This is a good state of mind to have.
I hope you keep it forever.
Of course, I wish only good things for you, but there will be unpleasantries.
There could be heartbreaks or friendship changes or crappy classes or less-than-stellar grades,
but I think you know that your dad and I are always here, always willing to help you figure things out, usually by handing you the reigns.
We hit the daughter jackpot with you.
Love always,
Momma
Fifteen seems big...perhaps even bigger than 16.
But maybe that's just me.
I had a much harder time turning 29 than I did turning 30.
I guess it's the cusp of things that get me all discombobulated.
You were babysitting but made sure to get a photo with the dog.
Fear not, though.
Your mother will not get all grossly sentimental because that's not my style.
You are halfway through your freshman year, and you've had an easy and fun time of it, I think.
Making the field hockey team and earning good grades your first semester and joining a new Girl Scout troop and playing in an orchestral ensemble.
All good things.
A boyfriend entered the picture this fall, a situation I took better than you did.
You were terrified by how I would react.
I was like, "Why are you crying? Is he a serial killer?"
But I followed up with, "Honey, this is normal."
You looked stunning for the homecoming dance.
Or as normal as anything is.
In this family, we have a pretty large sliding scale for normal.
You're an easy kid to parent.
Mostly.
About the biggest gripe I have is that you're a chronic putzer.
You putz in the morning, which is understandable, but you putz at all other times of the day, too.
Perhaps the most frequent phrases I hear from you are, "I'm tired" and "Can I have a hug?"
I guess another small "issue" I have is
how many photos I find that
you've snapped when you
secretly grab my phone. Weirdo.
I predict the next year will see you come even more into your own person, perhaps figuring out some interests you have that you could envision yourself doing as an adult.
Or not.
This might be the area in which you take after your mom, not figuring out what you want to do until your mid-20s and only sorta sticking with it in your mid-40s.
You won a major award!
You already seem pretty comfortable in your own skin.
I've seen you walk out of the house some days and think to myself, "She really and truly does not care in the least what anyone thinks of her."
This is a good state of mind to have.
I hope you keep it forever.
Learning to cook so that you can learn to drive.
(Cause that's the rule.)
Of course, I wish only good things for you, but there will be unpleasantries.
There could be heartbreaks or friendship changes or crappy classes or less-than-stellar grades,
but I think you know that your dad and I are always here, always willing to help you figure things out, usually by handing you the reigns.
You nailed 80s day.
We hit the daughter jackpot with you.
Love always,
Momma
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