A belated 21st bday letter (and the last one)

Dear N,

I know you reached the age of majority three years ago, but recently you reached yet another important milestone: 21. 

The only advice I gave to you was not to get so drunk that you got tossed out of Cardinal Stadium (which no longer exists) by the police due to public intoxication, which is what I did very soon after I turned 21. I also suffered a 5-day hangover, an act of stupidity I never, ever repeated. 

The first alcohol you bought as a 21-year-old. 

Over the years, I have tried to instill in you good things, but more importantly, I have tried to model those good things to you in how I live my own life. 

To be kind and compassionate but to also not allow others to manipulate you. 

To be honest but not cruel. 

To stand up for yourself but more importantly stand up for others who may not have the wherewithal to voice something themselves.

To never stop learning but to not allow information to steal your time or joy.

To listen to your inner voice but also learn from the mistakes and wisdom of others.

When I had you, I had a completely bonkers idea of what a mom should be for a child. In my 21 years of parenting, I have chilled out a lot, mostly because I have realized that I am mostly a guide and never a creator. Your life is not, never has been, and never will be, a reflection of my life; nor is my life a reflection on yours. We are both two individuals doing the best we can and hopefully making each other a little better during the journey. 

Several years ago, you told me that you want to have children and give them the kind of childhood you had. You want to stay home with them, and if that is what you want, I hope you are able to make it happen. But I admit a little piece of me thought, "Don't you want more for youself?"

And I felt conflicted by being both honored that you have such good memories of your childhood that you want to do exactly as I did and also somewhat saddened that you don't want more. I hated that I had this little sliver of internal discord. I have thought about it a lot over the years and come to this conclusion:

The best thing I will ever do with my life, and of which I am most proud, is raising three decent humans. 

But when I think of the other things I have done, and will do, I don't know that I jump down to 2 or 3 or 4. I think I jump in terms of decimal points.

Because at 1.1 would be teaching and playing a role in other young people's lives. You know I still, at age 51, have a relationship with my own middle school teacher, Mrs. S, and I suspect with social media, I will be in some kind of contact with my own former students when they are 51. There is something wondrous about being a part of someone's life, watching them spiral out into the world, and knowing that you played a tiny part in that formation. 

At 1.2 I might put establishing a writing career. And 1.3 is managing to sustain a long-term relationship with your dad. And none of those things have anything to do with me being a mother or a stay-at-home mother for the years that I was. 

Suffice it to say, you will figure things out in your own life, and you will struggle with the choices you make and the things life throws at you. But you will continue learning, whether it be from raising your own children, or from watching me live my life. My parents are 82 and 86, and even though they have loads of experience, each new day brings them new things they've never experienced, such as having a first granddaughter who is now 21. I am still learning from my parents and will until they are gone (and likely beyond). 

So, of course, I'm not wiping my hands of you and saying "You're on your own, kid!" But it is nice to be able to step back and watch you live the way you wish. 

With you turning 21, it is also time for these letters to you to end. I went back through these birthday posts, thinking I had written them your entire life, but I could only find them dating back to when you were seven, which is when I think I finally came out a little bit from my motherhood fog. When you were seven, your brothers were four and two, and I came up for a little air. If you have your own children, you will understand this. 

You will always be my favorite girl, 

Momma

Entering your third decade

Dear N,

This morning I mentioned your father's cereal eating habits over the last 26 years, and I phrased it like this:

"The first decade, he ate Raisin Bran. The second decade of our marriage, he ate muesli. We're in the third decade and he's eating Maple Pecan cereal. Who knows what the fourth decade will entail?"

It surprised me that he and I will, before long, enter our fourth decade of marriage, which prompted you to ask whether you are entering your third decade of life. And the answer is YES. 

How crazy for both of us!

I know three decades seems old to you, but I've got three MORE decades of life experience on you; to me, you are still wet behind the ears. I say this, though, knowing that to Nana, I am still wet behind the ears since she has three and a half more decades of experience than I do. It's all relative. 

It sometimes drives you crazy when I make "suggestions" for you to consider in terms of your life, your education, your path forward. It drove me crazy when Nana did the same to me, like when she said "Maybe you should be a teacher" when I was in undergraduate studies. I didn't want to be a teacher. Or I didn't want to be a teacher then. It was only after graduating and working for a while in a dull job that I reconsidered. 

Yesterday, I spoke to our financial advisor, and he asked about you. When I told him I had suggested grant writing as something for you to consider, he laughed and said something on the order of, "There are lies and then there is grant writing." This made me laugh. I know you want to write fantasy, so maybe grant writing will fit into that plan. 

You will do many things in your life. You may decide that something I've suggested is a good fit; you may not. But I would be violating the "mother code" if I didn't share some of what I've learned in those three decades of life I have on you. Plus, sometimes even though we know ourselves best, we also have blindspots or things we need someone to point out to us. 

I hope you know that whatever you do is ok with me (I mean legal whatever you do). You are bright and kind and overall a good, decent person. What more could a parent ask for? 

I hope you also know that I have never thought of you as a reflection of me. You are your own wonderful person. I am also pretty freaking awesome, so I don't need to ride on your youthful coattails or find joy only in what you do. That can be a heavy weight for a young person to carry; the weight of responsibility they feel their parents are forcing on them--the weight to make a certain grade, have a certain job, earn a certain amount of money, live in a certain house, marry a certain type of person. Parents don't do their children favors when they forget that just because something would be their preference doesn't mean it is their children's preference. 

Your 20th year will be full of new things, including entering your junior year of college (mind-boggling). I hope you enjoy them, have fun, learn a few things, make friends and connections, do what makes you content. I love you through it all.

Momma

Last year of teens

Dear N,

You have now embarked on your last year as an official teen, although your life is already very different from what it was a short 12 months ago.

It has been a strange year because you are learning how to navigate life as an adult, and I am learning how to not be a part of everything. This is not bad, for either of us. I have not once missed field hockey or high school events; it is totally ok that I'm not getting emails from school or having to fill out forms for you. This is the progression that every parent (every rational one, anyway) welcomes.  

I think you've adjusted to college. You were anxious your first semester, but you managed to pull all As and seem much more relaxed about second semester. You are enjoying your Philosophy in Science Fiction class (which I, your ever wise mom, recommended you take). It is fun for me and your dad to hear you talk about your classes. College can be a really cool time for you to figure yourself out (or at least begin a process that, if you're anything like me, will take until you're about 25 before you have a clearer sense of what you really want). 

You have gone through the friendship transition that takes place for most people after high school. Everyone goes in different directions, and you learn to make new friends or hang out with yourself for awhile. Those friendships were meaningful and served their place and time, but they often fade away. It can feel sad, but it can also feel liberating. I think for you it felt like both. 

I hope you know that I think you're a pretty marvelous young woman. You're bright and friendly, responsible and good-natured. You're the type of person it is easy to be around. You are, like me, a little addicted to books, but if this is your worst habit, I'm a lucky mom. We share weird cat videos via Instagram all the time; it is our love language, I think. I'm excited to go to Scotland with you and the rest of the gang this summer to explore and see some amazing things. I love that we are travel buddies, with you always happy to send me suggestions for the "next place."

Continue to work hard, be yourself, and try to think things through to their logical progression (which can be hard when that prefrontal cortex is still cooking). 

I'm really glad you came into my life 19 years ago.

I love you,

Momma

Graduation letter

Dear N,

Tomorrow is your commencement. I think it is kind of interesting that we call them that because so often people get weighed down by the ending of things when it comes to high school graduation. Parents, especially, feel sad and sentimental seeing their children reach this milestone. But to commence is to begin, and in all the important ways, your life is just now beginning. 

My memory is pretty poor in general, but I remember feeling excited and terrified when I graduated from high school. There were so many decisions before me: What was I going to be? What was I going to do? So many big potential life events on the horizon---Maybe marriage one day? Maybe kids one day? Gainful employment? A house and furniture and adulting?

You are embarking on a time of figuring stuff out, and you will be doing that for the rest of your life. It is a long lifetime road of not knowing what the fuck you're doing, but that is ok because no one else knows what the fuck they're doing either. Your dad and I certainly don't know what we're doing as we navigate having a legal adult in the house who is also our child. Some people hide their not knowing better than others but, trust me, this is the human condition. 

For about the next ten years, you're going to be in a state of confusion and discomfort if you're anything like most people (or maybe just me). As a new 18-year-old, you are really in the wormy stage of adulthood babyhood; you've barely got your eyes open and you haven't figured out what your hands are for. Your twenties are exciting and new and mind-blowing and weird; it's like the later babyhood and toddlerhood of adulthood. You learn to belly-scoot, then crawl, then Frankenstein-monster walk. In your thirties, you'll run. In your forties, you'll run and give the finger to anyone who looks at your cross-eyed because you don't care what they think anymore. I'll update you on the fifties once I get there. 

All commencements come with advice so here is some of mine:

1--Go to therapy sooner rather than later should you ever feel you need it. It can be extremely helpful to have a totally objective person help you deal with things without the baggage that friends and family bring. A strong person knows when they need help and seeks it out. 

2--Don't assume you know the answer; instead ask questions. Your brilliant mom made some big assumptions in college without seeking answers from people who knew more than I did. While I am happy with the life I have, I often wonder if my trajectory would have been different had I not assumed but asked. 

3--Don't worry about people who peak now or in college or at anytime that is different than you. And truly, what does peaking mean anyway? A girl you were in playgroup with as a toddler is the youngest American woman to climb Mount Everest which is amazing, but do you want to climb mountains? Some people do big, huge things in the world, like Alexander the Great, and are remembered in history books. The rest, the other 99.9%, live their lives quietly. Henry David Thoreau said "the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation," and I think that is probably true. The goal, I suppose, is to avoid a life of desperation but quiet isn't so bad. 

4--Henry David Thoreau also said, "I have lived some thirty years on this planet, and I have yet to hear the first syllable of valuable or even earnest advice from my seniors." And that is another piece of my advice to you: Ignore my advice if it seems irrelevant or like bullshit. Do what you want and don't worry too much about what anyone else thinks.  I can't live your life. I'm not you. You have an entirely different experience from me so be truest to yourself and live by your values. Do no harm to yourself or others if you can help it. 

5--DO NOT throw away your retainer. Seriously, despite what Henry David said, this advice should be heeded. Your middle-aged mouth will be glad you listened to your mom. 

Tomorrow you'll wear your cords and your stole and it will feel like the most important thing you've done. And it is. For now. But this, my dear, is truly only the beginning.

Love,

Mom

As we approach graduation

We have several weeks until N graduates from high school. While she may be counting down, I am neither counting down nor wishing time to stop and keep us frozen in amber to avoid seeing her move onto the next stage of her life. I am going about the days as I always have.

In general, I have a difficult time stomaching sentimentalism and cliches. I have a difficult time with the public proclaiming of how wonderful kids are and how proud we are of them. Primarily, this is because it is all curated. It is all, in its own way, lies. Or if not lies, then abstentions. 

But this is the season of that sort of thing, I guess. 

People have begun asking me "How are you?" in relation to having a senior so close to graduation, and I emphatically say, "I am fine."

Because I am.

Maybe I would be a little sad if I didn't have six more years of middle and high school with her two younger brothers, but by the time they get through, I will be oh-so-ready to be the fuck done with all this. 

Maybe I would be a little sad if I hadn't savored the time with her when she was young. 

But I blogged about it and I journaled about it and I took photos of it and I took videos of it, and I was there for all of it. 

Why would I need or want to stay there forever?

If I put on the rose-colored glasses of sentimentality, I would forget that those times when she was young were not all wonderful.

The times of having to help do projects in elementary school. Ugh.

The times of being woken up in the middle of the night. 

The times I got puked on.

The times I had to go to so many freaking preschool birthday parties. Geez Louise.

The times I played Barbies until I thought my brain would pop out of my ears from sheer boredom. 

Maybe I've read too many Buddhism books, but all, including my children's childhoods and teenage years, is impermanence. 

And I am far more comfortable embracing this fact than feeling the sticky fingers of sentimentalism encroach on me. 

I think for many parents their overwhelming feelings about watching their child graduate have almost nothing to do with the child; it is about the parent. About losing control (as if they had it to begin with). It is about their own death looking them in the face for a moment. They are often sandwiched, as I am now, between parents who are aging, either planting feet into their 80s or already knee-deep, and children who are no longer under our thumbs. 

It is a strange and uncomfortable place.

Well, this got dark.

But that darkness is why sentimentality is allowed to swoop in. It feels better, I suppose. It is warm and fuzzy and maybe makes people feel better temporarily. 

I don't like its texture, though, any more than I like the uncomfortable of knowing the circle of life keeps turning. The clock hands have moved me to a position I remember my parents being at when I was 18. The hands for them are closer to midnight. The seconds continue to tick by.

The most comfortable place is the here and now. This day. This moment. Not the countdown of days until graduation. Not the wallow of time gone past. 

Firsts and lasts in 18 years (Happy Birthday)

Dear N,

We are right on the cusp of your 18th birthday; a little under 24 hours to be exact. This time 18 years ago, I was hoping to have a natural birth. I was also so in need of medication for anxiety that I was pretty certain I would not actually bring home a live baby. 

Did I ever tell you the story of how I asked, when your dad and I bought your crib furniture, if I could return the items if the baby....you....died?

Thank your lucky stars I got medicated some 7 months after your birth.

My life changed in so many ways when you were born.

It was the last time I worked full-time.

It was the first time I felt completely unable to cope with the responsibility set before me (you did not come with a manual or a lifetime supply of "chill pills for mom.").

It was the first event that sparked a series of other events that led me to understand I had long had mental health issues.

You, however, were an easy baby, and thank goodness, because I doubt I could have handled anything else.

When I look at you now, I remember conversations I had with Daddy about what you might look like or be like when you "grew up," and now here you are....actually all the fuck grown up. (Sorry for the cussing, but, my god, HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?)

I could not be more proud of the young woman you are, and it has nothing to do with your smarts or your grades or your accomplishments. 

It has everything to do with your genuine niceness. You are simply a good person. You've never been a "mean" girl. You've not isolated others with snobbery. You've taken the lead on the high road more times than I can count. 

You are trustworthy and honest. You are reliable. People know you will do what you say you will do. 

When Daddy and I brought you home that first night, a night I remember distinctly because I DID NOT KNOW WHAT THE FUCK TO DO, I could not imagine that I would be typing this 18 years later. I could not imagine that you would be as awesome as you are. I hoped you would be awesome, but I didn't know what you might become. 

Did.not.know.what.the.fuck.I.was.doing.

I don't say it anywhere near often enough, but I am so proud of you. Not for what you've done, but for who you are. 

Your birthday always reminds me of firsts and lasts that I experienced around your birth. It was a big transitional period for me, and it took me years to adjust. Fortunately, you're not the worse for it. 

Since you didn't get a Sweet 16 due to COVID, and you didn't get a 17th party also due to COVID, I hope you have a fun time this weekend thoroughly enjoying yourself. 

You will always, always, always be my most favorite daughter and the first of my three greatest life blessings.

I love you,

Mom

The best non-award my player could get

I know awards can inspire people and make them feel proud that their accomplishments have been recognized. 

I experienced it myself at the end of 8th grade when I won the Principal's Award and at the end of high school when I won Miss Presentation. 

But awards can also make people feel like failures even if they win an award (or at least they did for me). 

At the end of senior year of high school, we had superlatives voted on by our graduating peers. I had it in my mind that I wanted "Most Likely to Succeed," but I did not get this award.

I was voted Most Leadership. While I was proud of it, it wasn't what my heart desired. It took a long time for me to recognize that 1. this award was really appropriate given the person I am.  I am a leader. 

And 2. getting an award about success may not match whatever definition of success any given person has. I don't have a big-whig corporate job. I don't work full-time. I'm not a mover and shaker. But I've got a fucking interesting life, and I have a positive impact on others. The older I've gotten, the more I think an inch deep, mile-wide life isn't quite as cool as an inch-wide, mile-deep life. 

When I graduated from college with my BA, I wanted the Economics award, but I was given the English award, even though my GPA was higher in Economics. Looking back now, as a certified English teacher and a freelance writer who has won awards for my writing, I understand that it was a little silly for me to get my nose out of joint for not getting the "award" I wanted.

And how many people are there who never win the awards but who show up and show out and work hard and do all the things well but maybe not as well as the best? They never get the recognition they deserve. 

When N was a freshman, she had a field hockey coach she really liked and wasn't with some of her past middle school teammates. These girls were good players and had been playing longer than N. She felt intimidated by them; when they made varsity and she made JV her freshman year, it was the BEST thing to ever happen for her self-esteem. She was able to shine. She played so well and earned a Best Defense Award at that year's end-of-season banquet. 

(It was the epitome of bigger fish in smaller pond versus smaller fish in bigger pond scenario.)

The downside of her esteem shooting up and playing so well is that she made varsity her sophomore year where she again felt those intimidated feelings being around the girls from middle school who made varsity their freshmen year. 

I'm not sure N was ever able to fully rise above those feelings, but by senior year, she redirected herself from that to becoming a friend to the underclassmen on the team. 

During senior night this past season, when a rainstorm interrupted the team's final festivities of the night, I collected all of the posters that the underclassmen had made for the seniors to protect them from the rain and noticed that N had a crap ton (that are still in my living room). One of the underclassmen moms even made a point to show me the sweet poster her daughter had made for N before senior night festivities began. And they were clearly posters that the girls who made them had spent time and effort on--detailed drawings and battery-powered lights and all kinds of extra. 

Last night at N's last field hockey banquet, one of the underclassmen parents came up to me and the mother of another senior (a close friend of N's) last night and told us how much she appreciated that our daughters had made her daughter feel so much a part of the team and so welcome. 

And that was the non-award award that makes me most proud of my daughter. 

I don't say this to dismiss the awards the other girls won. They are very good players; they deserve their awards. 

I say this because when it comes to who I want my daughter to be, if I could design a perfect kid in my estimation, I'd rather have her field hockey stats suck and for her to be a kind, open, and friendly person who other younger players look up to and admire.

A delight (#11)

I took a very long pause on noticing delights; reality and the strange busyness of slowly going back to whatever passes for normal these days got in the way.

Today, though, was a bit delightful because N and I took a road trip that got me out of my house, out of my city, and also threw me all the way back to my teenage years.

We visited WKU which involved several (+)  hours in the car, some photos, a crap ton of walking, and lunch inside an actual restaurant since 1.) we are both fully vaccinated and 2.) it was 2 pm CST which means there were hardly any people inside. 

It was delightful to wander the campus which was beautiful with various pieces of public art on a day that I thought would rain but ended up being nice and breezy. 

It was delightful to feel like I was getting away (even though we came back the same day).

It was delightful (and maybe a little stressful) to talk to N about her ideas about what she wants and where she wants to go and what she might want to do with her life the next several years of her life. 

I was reminded of my own college visits and the decisions I made about where to go. Now me, 47-year-old me, happily medicated and well-versed in therapy me, would drop everything and go off to college away from my parents to explore and have fun. But the me of 30 years ago wouldn't and didn't. 

And N has to do what is right for her, the her she is now. Whatever that may be. 

We've still got one more college visit to do. 

The curmudgeon in me would normally hate to do this stuff but the travel-deprived-now-fully-vaccinated-me was ok with it. 

And that was a delight, too. 

What does success mean?

N and I did her first of several college visits the other day, and it has made me think all kinds of things. 

She said something on the order of, "I don't want to be an adult," and I responded with something like, "I don't want to be an adult helping you become an adult." 

Mostly I meant paying for college, but I also mean just having to vicariously go through the ORDEAL.

Obviously, I love my kid and will support her, but MAN, there is so much angst and stress and ugh. And that rubs off on me and sends me down a rabbit hole of thinking. 

I'm ever closer to having to change my blog subtitle to "cognitive-behavioral therapy for a 50-something mother of three," but I still don't know "what I want to do with my life." 

I work part-time and don't make much money and that is by choice. 

Am I a success? 

Not by "the world's" standard. 

I'm not famous or wealthy. I don't hobnob with important people. I don't make decisions that have huge impact. I don't set policy. I won't be listed in history books. One hundred years from now there will be no one who knows I existed. 

One hundred years from now even most of the famous, wealthy, hobnobbing, decision-making people won't be remembered. 

When I was thinking about modern music (sometime after my daughter's boyfriend turned me on to this jewel of ridiculousness), it dawned on me that people say things about Michael Jackson or Elvis Presley or Frank Sinatra being the "greatest." And I'm like, "WHAT ABOUT THE MUSIC THAT PEOPLE MADE SOME 3,000 YEARS AGO?" How do we modern humans know that THAT music wasn't the greatest of all time?

Seventh grade social studies curriculum covers a wide swath of time, and I sometimes wonder about the short shrift that some of these civilizations get (if they get mentioned at all). 

My ultimate point is that one individual life doesn't matter much, and yet the paradox is that one individual life matters a ton. 

I've read and taught The Great Gatsby enough times to feel pretty sure that anyone with an ounce of sense should reconsider whatever they think "The American Dream" is. 

Even if you don't buy into the world's standard of success, it is a weight that hangs around your neck all the time. It is a voice that reminds you that maybe you aren't doing what you should be doing. Maybe you're not achieving the dream that someone other than you set for you? 

It takes making a conscious effort every day to redefine success in a way that makes sense to you.

Today, I subbed with a class of first graders. When they had library, the librarian read them this book, and they repeated the words after her. 

At the end of the day, I showed the kids a video of Louis Armstrong in 1967 singing the song. They were mesmerized. And I taught them a new "oat" word--moat--which one of the boys drew at the end of the day and showed me. 

I felt like a pretty damn successful substitute teacher today. 

I've spent years putting most of my attention and energy into my children. That has earned me zero pay and mostly intense headaches (and maybe at times a short-lived penchant for too much wine). Success, if there is such a thing in parenting, will come years and years from now. 

Maybe success is putting all your energy into something you believe in?

Maybe success is devoting attention to something you truly love doing?

Maybe success is dabbling in lots of things and becoming adept in different areas?

Maybe success is having integrity and being the type of person that people know they can trust?

Maybe success is as unique as each individual person who has ever graced this earth?

Why we didn't do a class ring for our kid

I have a class ring from when I graduated high school. 

I wore it for one year and then promptly stuck it in a jewelry box when I entered college; once I entered college, I didn't want to be seen as a "high schooler" anymore.  

It has been sitting in that box for 30 years. 

It sits alongside my mother's high school class ring, which has been sitting in a drawer for 60 years. 

I looked up class rings for my daughter's high school just now, and they range in price from $419 to over $1,000, and either of those amounts seems like a lot of money for something that will be worn for a year and then stuck in a draw for the rest of time. 

In college, when there was a some promotion or information given about college class rings, I promptly tossed them. I knew my high school ring was in a drawer; I suspected my college ring would do the same. 

When the idea of rings came up with N, I explained to her my thoughts on rings. We opted to go on a school-related trip with her Spanish teacher in 2022. 

Admittedly, this trip costs considerably more than either $419 or $1,000, but that experience is something she will carry with her for the rest of her life. She will gain a much greater perspective on herself and what the world is and does. 

Of course, part of this decision was easy because there will be no junior ring ceremony due to the pandemic. N isn't in school every day listening to her peers discuss junior rings ad nauseam. 

But it makes me wonder, as I like to do, who decided that junior rings are a thing? And that junior ring ceremonies are a thing? 

I remember virtually nothing of my ring ceremony from high school. I can say with fairly good certainty that it made zero impact on my life. 

[And my senior prom? What I remember is that the entire time I wished that I hadn't brought my long-time boyfriend because I was well on my way to dumping him. I would have had much more fun had I gone stag and just yucked it up with my girlfriends.] 

I can't help but wonder if junior ring stuff isn't all a marketing ploy that the masses have fallen into because people love an excuse to spend money and don't want to be "that" parent (which I totally don't mind being) and they want to make their own children experience everything they did (a bit of reliving their own lives through their children)?

Of course, I'm not a huge traditions person, mostly because I know that traditions change, whether we want them to or not. And forcing a tradition when it is long past its life, is painful and embarrassing and unpleasant. 

17th birthday letter

Dear N,

This week you will have your 17th birthday and yet I can still remember so clearly setting you on the floor in your portable car seat the night that your dad and I brought you home from the hospital.

I remember thinking, "I don't know what in the fuck I'm doing."

And 17 years still later, I still don't know what in the fuck I'm doing. 

You change and I change and life changes around us. 

What hasn't changed is that I'm still winging it. 

You never really got to celebrate your 16th birthday because your birthday always comes in the thick of Girl Scout cookie booth season (late Feb-mid March). 

By the time that was ending last year, COVID had hit, and we were quarantining.

This was your cupcake when we finally got to celebrate with family. 

Your 16th birthday gift was to see Elton John in concert, which was canceled and is "supposed" to happen in spring 2022. 

We shall see. 

Your field hockey season was weird.

Your junior year of high school has been weird.

And on top of all that, we've dealt with Pa's cancer, surgeries, and treatment. 

I can't say this has been an especially easy year for our family.

I have been thinking a lot about being a mother to you as I'm also thinking about being a daughter to my own parents.

As I'm seeing you grow up, I'm seeing them grow old.

[I realize I'm talking about me at the moment which is SO NOT COOL in a birthday letter but bear with me.]

It occurred to me one day recently that having a child means subjecting that child to loss. 

Yes, I know, this is a DUH moment because life is all about loss and sadness but that is not at all what people think about when they find out they are having a wanted child. 

But a big loss/sadness is watching your parents become older, become different from the strong people they used to be. They are still themselves but smaller, weaker, more fatigued, more fragile. 

Having a child means subjecting that child to having to become an adult, and even though your dad and I had you and bought a house and have bank accounts and do grown-up stuff, we're still children as long as our parents are around. 

So in thinking about when you were born, I thought about how we made the decision (unknowingly) that you would suffer, be sad, experience loss. 

As I'm watching my parents get older, I'm looking at you and feeling thankful that I see my beautiful and funny and kind and a little-bit-weird daughter who helps balance out the sadness I feel in my own role as a daughter right now.

 

Today, when I sat chatting with Nana, she told me about her own mom getting older years and years ago. Grandma's eyes were so poor she had the thickest glasses the eye doctor could make plus a magnifying glass to read the paper. 

Nana told me that her mom said to her, "What if I go blind?"

And Nana said, "Well, I guess you'll just bump into stuff."

And I laughed.

Nana didn't say that to her mom really (those were her thoughts at the time), but it sounded like something I would say, and it occurred to me that, unfortunately (or maybe fortunately) for you, you come from at least 2 generations of women who are funny and have close relationships with their own moms. 

I hope that this 17th year is as happy as it can be given all the crap going on around us. 

Your life will not be always happy and joyous which is what every parent imagines their baby's life will be on the night they bring them home from the hospital. 

Every parent expects the world to crack wide open for their child and every parent experiences the harsh realization that this will not happen. 

Their child will be human; flawed and full of foibles. 

The world will not always or even often be kind. 

Your life will be happy and sad and frustrating and easy at all different times and in lots of different ways.  

I hope that throughout your life you are able to enjoy the happy and easy and sit with the sad and frustrating, knowing that all of these things will ebb and flow. 

I hope throughout your life you know I have always loved you. 

Momma

The Sixteen Candles birthday letter

Dear N,

This week you turn 16, a birthday that feels monumental to both of us, I think.

I've never been good at projecting what you might be like at a certain age in the future. I remember Daddy asking me this question (What do you think N will be like when she is X years old?) when you were a small girl, and I just couldn't imagine what you might be like.

I lack imagination, but mostly, it simply didn't matter what I thought you might be like or what I wanted you to be like. It didn't take me very long into motherhood to recognize that I am less the sculptor of my children and more the museum curator who finds the best spot for the sculptor's work to be admired or viewed.

My children are both their own sculptors and the sculptures they create.

I like to think you are the kind of girl who has a range of friendships with people, who can move between "groups" of people and be equally comfortable and nice to all.

You are just good-hearted and not the person who looks down on others. However, you definitely have your opinions about things and don't value people who come across as snobby or fake but, unlike your mother and more like your dad, you generally keep those feelings under wraps.

Speaking of that, you are a blend of me and Daddy. You are involved and have a wide range of friendships like me, but you also truly treasure your downtime and don't require other people to be entertained (I'm better about that as an adult, but definitely was not when I was 16).

Recently you wrote your essay for induction into the National Honor Society at your school. Though you initially struggled with what to write, your essay was fantastic and just epitomized who you are:

I thought the John Lennon pun at the end was simply brilliant; your freelance writer momma was super proud of that one!

Enjoy your day, and keep studying for your permit test. You and Daddy are gonna have a blast with driving lessons.

I love you to the upside down and back even when you act like a Demogorgon (which isn't often, but you are a teenager so it happens),

Momma

The meanest, cruelest mother in the world, and I don't care

I am making N pay for her own car insurance.

Someone call CPS.

(I have received a little flack for this, and not just from the soon-to-be 16-year-old.)

I am expecting N to get a part-time job this summer (like 20 hours a week) to help make money to cover car insurance and gas, which leaves her 148 other hours during a week to do whatever. Assuming she sleeps 9 hours per night, that leaves her 85 hours per week to do whatever else she wants to do.

(FYI: I do not currently have 85 hours per week to do whatever I want.)

A summer job will do a number of things for her in addition to helping her pay for her insurance:

1--She will see that working in a job can blow, and there is nothing more motivating than working in a job that sucks to help you never want to be in that position again and make sure you keep your grades up and take education seriously.
2--She will see that even though mom and dad make XYZ gross, there are taxes taken out. Every young person needs to experience the magic of taxes for themselves.

For the past year, I have been having her give me money from her neighborhood pet-sitting business and babysitting to put towards it.
And, the truth is that I will help her a little if she is close but not exactly there.

I'm not the parent who gives her children everything their hearts desire.
They are fed, clothed, housed, and their medical needs are taken care of.
They are expected to go to school, do their school work to the best of their abilities, not be assholes to the general public, and gradually take responsibility for themselves because I don't want to be paying for their shit when they are 30.

I do nice things for my children, like buying N Elton John concert tickets for her birthday, which I think is profoundly generous.
But I don't buy tickets for N to go to Elton John, Forecastle, Bourbon & Beyond, and every other concert that comes to town.

Having my kids be financially responsible in little ways gives them some power and freedom with the goal that they will, one day, have total power over themselves and freedom from me and their dad.

As an adult, I would hate to have my parents paying for stuff because that gives them a voice in what I do.
If my parents offered to pay for my kids' education, that means they get to have an opinion about where I send them to school.
I love my parents, but I want to do what I want and make my own choices.
And I want that for my children.

Expecting them to slowly take responsibility isn't hurting them.
In my opinion, the parents who pay for everything for their children are hobbling them in ways they don't fully realize. 

Oh Jesus. It's dress code bullshit again

N's high school decided to attempt to enforce it's dress code at homecoming dance last night. I say attempted because dress codes are subjective and difficult to consistently enforce. Because I recognize this and had such an impossible task last year when trying to find a dress for my 5'8" daughter to wear that came down to 2 inches above the knee, I saved photos on my computer of girls who were let into last year's dance as evidence (if I ever needed it) of how arbitrary the dress code is.

I had those photos and a sign that said "Down w/ Sexist Dress Codes" when I went up to her school last night after getting calls/texts from my daughter and mom friends who said girls were being measured with RULERS at the dance.

Many were told they could not come in. Many students were milling around the parking lot waiting on their parents to get them when the police told them they were trespassing and had to leave. Many were kids I stood with on the sidewalk and waited for their parents to come since no high school staff waited with the kids. No police waited with them either.

I called my school board member. I emailed the principal. I encouraged the students to politely email the principal. I encourage everyone whose son didn't go into the dance because his date wasn't allowed into the dance to email the principal.

Below is my letter to the principal and the board member. It is followed by the letter my daughter sent her teachers and staff to let them know how it affected her. It is a little heartbreaking, and I don't have much of a heart to begin with.

My Letter

I understand that EHS has the right to establish a dress code. 

However, the problem with dress codes is that they generally affect female students, and they are horribly subjective in nature. An identical dress that comes to 2 inches above the knee on one girl may be 4 inches above the knee for another girl. 

EHS has been completely inconsistent regarding dress codes to dances. I have photos of dresses that were allowed into the homecoming dance in 2018. These dresses were above 2 inches. They look, in terms of length, IDENTICAL to the dresses of girls that were not let into the dance this evening. I am happy to provide these photos to you so you can see just how inconsistent EHS has been. 

I spoke with one young woman tonight who was not allowed in because of cleavage. Her friend, who had similar cleavage, was allowed in. This student provided me a photo as well. 

A young man not wearing a tie was not allowed into tonight's dance. Another young man wearing jeans WAS allowed into the dance. While girls received the bulk of the inconsistency from ESH administration, some young men felt it, as well. 

You may say "we have posted the dress code regularly since time immemorial," and that is the truth. However, having a dress code and consistency enforcing a dress code are two very different things. 

Additionally, I'm not sure EHS staff understands that parents purchase the dresses that are available to purchase in stores. I don't know a single mother who wouldn't love to find the "Hit at the Kneecap" dress shop, but this shop doesn't exist. 

With all due respect, the homecoming dance was a complete shitshow. 

By the time I arrived because my daughter was scared of all the hullabaloo and called me, the police were there and told everyone, including groups of students waiting for their parents to pick them up, that they must get off the property. No EHS staff members came out to supervise the students as far as I could see, therefore another mom and I stood on the front sidewalk on OS Road to ensure the kids got picked up. As far as I'm concerned, this went from a dress code issue and became a safety issue for these students. 

At the very least, there needs to be a community discussion with EHS staff and parents to try to resolve this issue that has angered many, many parents. 

Her Letter

In this email, I have included teachers that I had last year and now have this year, and administrators. Please share this with other teachers who want change about this pressing matter. 

You’re probably aware of the chaos that took place tonight at the homecoming dance, but I would like to tell you about my experience and spread the word. It would mean a lot to me if you read this whole thing and could understand what happened. 

I was so excited to spend time with my friends this year at the homecoming dance. We spent lots of time doing our makeup and hair beforehand and lots of money for our outfits. We were eating dinner when we received texts from friends about the administrators using rulers to measure dresses and being super strict. 

When we arrived at school for the dance, there was a large crowd of people outside the doors in the upper lot. We had heard that they weren’t letting many people in because of the length of their skirts. I was even told that some guys weren’t allowed because they weren’t wearing a tie. I stood outside with my friends for over an hour, waiting to get through the doors. We didn’t even make it inside the building until a long time after the dance started. 

While we were waiting, I witnessed many groups of girls exiting the building, some even crying. They had been told to leave because of their skirt length. The rule was to the knee, but people received an email that stated “dresses must be no more than 2 inches above the knee.” I understand how some people weren’t allowed in, but most girls with respectable and completely appropriate dress lengths were discriminated against. 

I have attached pictures of me and my friends, all in our dresses that me and many other people think are appropriate. I also attached the email that I received. After groups of people had left the building, they were standing in the parking lot waiting for a ride because they were just kicked out. The police had parked a car in front of the sidewalk, (picture attached) and had ordered people to leave the property. I know a group of girls who had stood on the sidewalk somewhere, and my mom drove up to come wait with them until they got picked up safely. (Picture attached.) 

When my friends and I finally made it inside, I did the breathalyzer and stepped up to the ID table. They acknowledged my friend as being a teacher at school’s daughter, and allowed her to proceed without measuring. My other friend asked if we could be measured before showing anything or paying. We were told to just show our IDs and then we’d get measured, so we did. 

I stepped up to the administrator and her immediate reaction was a scowl. She told me that I wasn’t going to cut it. The administrator then told me to pull my dress down to the longest length I could, and measured it from there. She told me that I “barely made it,” and told me I was okay. I turned around and started bawling. At this point I knew I wasn’t staying, but I needed to hear it anyways. Someone hugged me and my group then turned around and left. We were absolutely horrified, and felt embarrassed and violated. We had just been told that covering our bodies was more important than having fun. My friend was not refunded her $10 after we left, and now the sophomore class will not have enough money for our senior activities. This dance was our main source of profit for these activities, and our night was completely ruined. We had been looking forward to this for awhile, and were very let down by our school and the administration. 

After this awful incident, me and many others are asking for change. I know many girls who wasted money and time to dress up for this dance, and a number of guys who were angry and upset because their girlfriends or girls they knew were objectified. This was many people’s first date, first high school dance, or last high school homecoming dance. This whole situation makes me sick to my stomach and even hours after, I still feel nauseous. Everyone is upset, and I am not going to let this go until change is enforced. I hope you can understand, and maybe try to bring more attention to the subject. I am now scared to go to school on Monday because of the consequences that might be awaiting. Thank you for your time, and have a good night. 

Advice to my daughter: Be careful what you wish for

In July, when N tried out for field hockey, she hoped to make the varsity team.
She got her wish.
Like many wishes, she is realizing that the "dream" of the wish is different from the "reality" of the wish.
This is similar to the "dream" of career, marriage, and babies; what you envision rarely pans out to match reality.

N has not played in the last two games, and last night it brought her to tears, especially since her grandparents came to the game.
Now, N is not alone in not getting as much playing time as she wants; there are at least 5 other girls on the team who haven't been getting much time.

It is hard for me to walk this tightrope with her.

The part of me that abhors sports just for this reason is saying (inside my brain), "Told you so. This is why sports suck. It is win at all costs. Winning is more important than confidence-building or skill development or general enjoyment of the game."

When she complained about playing so many games in a row, I did actually say to her, "Well, N. This is varsity. You wanted to be on varsity, and now you are."

There is another part of me that knows she isn't playing up to how she did last year.
The untrained psychologist in me thinks this is due to 1.) her ankle injury and 2.) being back on a team with girls she played with in middle school who are really good and really aggressive.

Even if her ankle isn't actively hurting, she knows that spot is there, and she is being careful with it. But careful isn't an asset in a game; focusing on an ankle takes your mind off the ball.

And N seems to have reverted to that "let the other girls lead" thing that she had in middle school.
Last year, on JV, she was able to assert herself more.

I think N is letting her own head get in her way.

I have tried (gently) telling her that.
You can't tell a 15-year-old much.

As my children get older, I am, more and more, missing the days when the worst problem they had was that I gave them a green sippy cup instead of a blue one, and that was the sole focus of life's disappointments.
Even though N's problems then were as annoying as N's problems now, I could at least do something about them. 

The big ask (N at the university)

The older I get, the more I realize that asking is the absolute best thing you can do for a number of reasons.

First, the worst someone can say to your ask is no, which means you are still at the same point where you started.
You haven't lost anything.

Secondly, most people don't ask at all.
Sometimes the only reason change hasn't been made is because someone hasn't asked for it to be made.
In a perfect world, changes would be made without asking, but this isn't a perfect world.

A case in point.

When I was still N's Girl Scout troop leader, I contacted the city university to ask if the girls could tour and talk to someone in the psychology department.

That psychology department happens to be a very "female-strong" place, so not only were they delighted to meet the troop, they went on the develop a program and badge for other Girl Scout troops.

Fast forward to this spring after N's college visit (which all freshman did at her high school).
She remains interested in psychology, so I asked her if she would want to volunteer in the university's psychology program if they would allow it.
She said yes, so I emailed the contacts I had made at the university.
The worst they could say was "no," in which case N would be able to vegetate at home in front of her phone all summer long.
But they said yes.

And so, N has been going to the university one day a week to learn about the psychology department, what they do, research, etc.
She is networking with both undergrad and graduate students.
She is making an impression on a university professor (who could, perhaps, help mentor her if she chooses a psychology path).
She is learning about psychological research and helping the lab.
She is gaining confidence.

And all I did was ask.

You're fifteen (minutes of fame) (It's like something you'd read on Facebook)

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.

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

Dress code saga #68,082

As much as I hate dress codes, especially strict ones on paper that administrators do not actually enforce, which is just like empty-threat parenting, there is a silver lining to them (which I will get to in a little bit after venting for 40 paragraphs).

I took N shopping on Wednesday evening to attempt to find something to wear for the homecoming dance.

This adventure has made me think my entrepreneurial goal should be to open portable wine bars in juniors dress departments for the moms.

Moms in juniors departments are dealing with all sorts of emotional stress and would do well to take the edge off with a glass of pinot noir. In addition to the panic of spending $100 on a dress their daughter may only wear once, they are experiencing shame and guilt for what they put their own mothers through in shopping trips. Plus, there is the anxiety induced from dress codes.

This is what the dress code notice that has been in every high school email I've been sent for the last eight weeks should say:

Girls' dresses can be no more than 1 inch above the top of the knee.
(Just kidding. We are going to let LOTS AND LOTS of girls into the dance wearing dresses that come 4-5 inches above their knees.)

While N and her friends were dancing, I was doing a reconnaissance mission of my own with a little help from another high school mom.

I now have an album of photos of girls who went to homecoming in dresses that were higher than one inch. This album will never be used unless or until N gets any comment about her dress at a dance or is denied admittance.

This album of photos of what the school has allowed into dances will then be submitted as Evidence, Exhibit A.

I was very strict when N tried on dresses on Wednesday night because this was her first dance at the high school, and I didn't know if the dress code was actually enforced or empty-threat. There were tears from N, but I told her that I would rather have her cry in a store than at the dance when she is denied entry after having spent money on a dress and time getting ready.

No mother particularly wants her kid to cry, but if I have to pick a time and place, I know which one I will select.

N happened to find a super adorable jumpsuit that I think looked pretty stunning on her. D said she looked "statuesque." She was super pumped that it had pockets (she is related to her maternal grandmother).

So what was the silver lining of this whole mess of consumerism?

Three things:

1. N bought something that was unique and showed off her "I'm not like the other girls" attitude. She stood out.

and

2. It provided me an opportunity to instruct N in dressing for her body. As tall and thin as she is, the pantsuit made her look even taller and thinner, accentuating something that is lovely about her. It takes women a lifetime to realize what is wonderful about their bodies, so I hope our conversations on Wednesday helped her see that being tall and thin are enviable (especially when she gets into middle age, she'll be so very glad for that height).

and

3. Even though the dress code is bullshit, life is all about wading through bullshit. Case in point is the 90 hours of observations I'm having to do for the grad class as if I've never set foot in a classroom and have no experience. Life is not fair--dress codes are not fair--grad class requirements are not fair....but there they are, so you bitch about it and then suck it up and deal with it in whatever way you are able, with the goal being to deal with it so splendidly that people admire your tenacity, your unique ability to do what needs to be done in a creative and uniquely you way.

PTSD from lacrosse info session

Prior to N making the field hockey team, I had told her she could only do one sport per year.

Call me a lazy, unsupportive parent, but last year wore me out. She did field hockey from July-October and then began conditioning for lacrosse in November, which continued until lacrosse season actually began in the spring.

At the time, I didn't mind her starting in November because she had never played, and I felt that she had a better shot at making the team if she knew something about the game.

As much as I complain about sports and what it does to my schedule and wear/tear on my car, I'm proud of N for playing field hockey. She enjoys it and is playing better and better. She plays it for the fun of it, and while she doesn't like losing, she isn't terribly competitive.

In the grand scheme of life, a game loss means very little.
For that matter, a game win means very little. 

With her enjoyment and the exercise she gets from sports in mind, I told her she could try out for lacrosse but that we are taking November and December OFF.

So the other evening, I went to the parent info meeting about lacrosse.

It can be summed up like this:

Spend all your money to fundraise for lacrosse between right this second and February, however, we will only have two teams per gender; plan on your kid not making the team. And if your kid expects to make it, they have to LIVE LACROSSE. Family, school, lacrosse---that's it. 

(The family, school, lacrosse thing is verbatim from the coach.)

The coach also talked about how some kids who are now playing fall sports come to the conditioning lacrosse is doing now, after having practiced their fall sport for two hours.

My initial thought was: "Are you fucking kidding me? My kid is not going to another hour-long practice after a two-hour field hockey practice because her body needs to REST." Not to mention her mind needs to rest. Not to mention that her family would like to see her occasionally.

Somehow, by mentioning the dedicated players who come to lacrosse after their fall sports, it felt like the family, school, lacrosse thing was really "ALL WE CARE ABOUT IS LACROSSE AND SO SHOULD YOU!"

I am, personally, a big, BIG fan of MODERATION.

Work, but don't work to the point that you fail to enjoy other things.
Exercise, but don't exercise to the point that you don't do anything else or you develop injuries from it.
Play, but don't play to the point that you don't work.
Read, but throw in some movies and music and art and travel and other things that make you a well-rounded individual.
Eat in moderation. Even too much water all at one time ain't great for your body and can make you puke.

This lacrosse info session did not, to me, seem very moderate.
It felt rather intense, and I'm so intense inside my own head that I try not to add to that intensity outside my head.

I have decided and informed N that
1. these folks are bananas
and
2. she can condition in January and try out in February
and
3. I'm not fundraising until her ass makes the team.

If this makes me unsupportive, selfish, and not a team player, I'm happy to claim that title.

The response to my dress code letter to the counselor

I sent my dress code email on Friday.
I heard back yesterday morning from the counselor.
Tomorrow is graduation, so if you are counting that left me two days (during which I subbed) to purchase whatever remedy I need.

Fortunately, even though I sent the email, I know very well that rules are rules.
I didn't really expect the powers that be would allow little ole me to have an exception.
Mostly my email was to tell them that I dislike their inconsistency: two inches or fingertip length. Pick one and run with it, baby.

I'm not done writing letters, though.

A friend commented on my post about dress extenders, something I had never heard of.
But now we own one.
It cost $44.
I probably could have gotten another dress for cheaper, but I am nothing if not stubborn, and my daughter is gonna wear.that.blasted.dress even if she has to have a dress extender under it.

The counselor's letter was what I expected to receive:

Dear Ms. V--
Thanks for reaching out. We have had many discussions in our administration team about the dress code.
Our dress code states that dress and skirt length must be no more than two inches above the knee. This is what has been sent in each communication about promotion since March.

While I expected this, I also think it came across completely tone deaf.

I would have said something like, "I totally understand how difficult it is to find dresses that girls like and meet the dress code, and we've discussed the code many times as an administrative team, but we can't allow exceptions. If we do it for one, we have to do it for all."

Had it said something on the order of THAT, my dander would not be as up as it still is. As it now stands, I'm taking my damn tape measure tomorrow, and you better believe if I see a girl with a short dress on that is higher than 2 inches above the knee, I'm asking the counselor why SHE got to participate without changing anything.

I pulled out the original dress code sheet that was sent home at the beginning of the year, and it does say under Uniform Slacks/Skirts/Shorts/Skorts, that skirts/shorts/skorts must be no more than 2 inches from the top of the knee.

However, my daughter wore shorts both yesterday and Friday that were WAY ABOVE 2 inches above the top of the knee, and nothing was said. The teachers measured by the fingertip rule. The dance dress==fingertip rule.

My problem is both the rule and the lack of consistency in the rule.
Unlike adherence to the dress code at the school, I don't think those are gonna change.