A Firm Foundation

When I held my baby girl for the first time almost fourteen years ago, I made many promises to us. I guaranteed her that I wouldn't be anything like my own mother. Because, I mean, all those difficulties had to be inherently my mother's fault, right? Sure I was disrespectful on occasion, but didn't she provoke it by her lack of understanding and constant dismissal of me? Also, my girl would have her father, an honorable, principled man; something I lacked.

I also committed to making my best attempts at respecting her thoughts and opinions, to be considerate of her suggestions. I knew these issues would present themselves when she was far older than a mere 15 minutes post-delivery. The early end I was confident I could handle: breast-feeding, diapering, reading, singing, playing, stimulating those delicate synapses to connect. It was physically exhausting at times, but I was sure of her love, desire, and loyalty to me.

Well, she is cashing in on those promises. Everyday. Sometimes hourly. Let me just say, it isn't for the cowardly. I screw-up. I am prideful. I yell. I get sarcastic. I am tired. I am impatient. I get frustrated. I need a dictionary because I think we are speaking the same language, but when she repeats back to me what I have said, something is getting lost in the translation.

This girl is brilliant and talented and beautiful and resourceful and kind. I couldn't, I wouldn't ask for anyone else. I love her creativity; her sense of propriety; her desire to help; her sense of justice. If we were adults, I would latch onto her friendship and not let go. I would accommodate her eccentricites and chalk it up to her uniqueness. Why do I struggle so to do it when she is my adolescent child?

Last night I was attempting to show her the steps for one of the dance movements in the play. She immediately bristled and resisted. Instead of forcing it, I looked around for someone else, a woman I had observed to be kind, and competent. I then said that I needed a bit of help, too, and followed along. I wasn't allowed to make one suggestion. Only to observe and be a part of learning with her.

Today, she had to pass-up an opportunity to babysit because of her commitment to swim team. There was a misunderstanding between the neighbor and E as to what time the neighbor needed to return home. I settled it and it left her unable to sit. The stocks would have been more pleasant compared to the accusations that flew my direction. Finally, I could stand it no longer. I caved. I yelled. I told her I was tired of her treating me like a traitor. I explained that there was a miscommunication and her method wouldn't have worked out. I mentioned that I typically try to let her sit whenever she can, this time just wouldn't work. Next my arrangements for car pooling to swim team were challenged. I am sure the neighbors could hear every word, even though we were in the basement hurling words like shots, hoping each would land far and hard.

She is now gone to swim team. I couldn't handle sending her off without finding a kinder voice. There was no time to resolve it the right way, so I deferred in several small ways, finally telling her that I loved her and wanted her to have a good swim. I think she muttered thanks and walked through the door.

I just can't screw this up. Usually I am quite confident in my parenting, but this whole hormonal, growing-up thing is really shaking my resolve.