I had my son fairly young - not super young but fairly young - I was a few weeks shy of twenty-one when he was born. We sorta grew up together and because idiot was in the Army we were alone together a lot. He was a real joy to be with... a laid back, easy going little guy. We did things together - watched movies and went to the zoo. We took our weekly walk through at the Walmart store... we read stories and played games. When he got older we would go to dinner together - just the two of us - about once a month. He would talk to me and tell me about things... fill me in on his life in ways he didn't do while we were at home. We struggled through middle school and class work and as he entered high school and things started to "click" for him academically I was able to back off and watch his progress. He started playing football and learning about himself - and I felt like he was coming into his own... the pride of parenthood, should we, as parents, accept its inevitability instead of fight it. These days I want to strangle him... I'm ready for him to be completely on his own... and so is he but we have college to get through first so we do this little dance - as a parent there is nothing harder than standing back and watching your child fall on his face knowing you can prevent it from happening but also knowing he won't learn a damn thing until he does. But hey, just TWO and a HALF MORE YEARS!!! YIPPEE!!!
When he was five he started asking for a little sister. Idiot and I had talked about having more children. He was never sold on the idea early on but he got to a point where he said if that's what we wanted to do he was ready. So we started trying. Each month I would look for a positive result and each month I was disappointed. I had this image in my head of two little boys... for some reason I just knew I would have boys and it was ok... I really never had a desire to have a girl. I knew how girls operated... girls were HARD... girls were more difficult than boys... more complicated. I had a boy... I knew how it worked - he was easy therefore in my mind boys were easy. And besides... my mom and I never had a relationship where we did "girl things" together. I know we fought ... like all moms and daughters do... hell - like all parents and kids do, but there was something else there I think. From the time I was small my mom would always tell this "story." When I was a baby I wasn't very affectionate. I tolerated her - to use her words... and that just broke her heart. She said I preferred my dad and she felt left out. When my brother came along three years later she said he was loving and happy and he was cuddly and affectionate with her. That's been the basis for the dynamic in our family ever since. She is very protective of my brother... very tolerant of his behavior, she is his confidant. I, ironically, am hers. Anyway - we didn't do mother daughter stuff together. Rarely did we shop - we didn't do hair or nails... no eyebrow waxing or plucking... we didn't shop for a wedding dress together - she didn't help me get dressed or do my make up. We never shared the mundane so sharing the extraordinary didn't happen either.
Over two years after we started trying for a baby I finally discovered I was pregnant. That in itself is a whole other story... and when I realized I was I also realized I found myself hoping it was a girl. Not sure why... I just did. My pregnancy with her was very much like my pregnancy with her brother... but being a little older and wiser (they are eight years apart) her birth was different. I had no epidural with her - all natural (the only way to go I am convinced) and I nursed her. I dressed her in pink... bows in her hair (which never stayed)... she was my baby doll - at least temporarily (until she hit four when she started to insist she choose her own clothes - at four it was nothing but dresses, at five it was anything but).... She has her own mind... a good thing I think - and we have locked horns on more than one occasion in her twelve tender years here on this earth. She is everything in me that is good and right and honest and pure. She is often the only reason I keep going... she is the one person in all of this who has lost the most. Son was 18 when idiot left... he remembers times when his dad was there - he remembers how his dad used to be... daughter doesn't. He doesn't attend her dances... he doesn't come and watch her practice... he doesn't know her - not at all....
Last night we decided to try out the new flat iron on her hair. She took a shower, washed and dried her hair and then came and sat with me as we combed her hair - sectioned it off - and straightened it. We then did a french pedicure on her toes and she sheepishly looked at me and said, "Mom, will you do my finger nails too?" So I did. We spent probably an hour and a half doing hair and nails... pampering her.... She woke up this morning still excited about how straight her hair is, how soft it feels and how glad she is we bought a new flat iron. She gushed in her preteen language... her face all smiles, her body twirling on her dancers toes - and I it made me feel like maybe I am doing something right after all. I missed having this closeness with my mom. I missed being pampered, I missed spending that kind of time with my mom... doing these simple little primping rituals somehow seems to be tied to a healthy self image... by letting her feel comfortable enough to accept it, letting herself openly experience it, letting herself be cared for... maybe it will make a difference. Or maybe I just felt like I missed something that really wasn't all that important. I don't know what the answer is... but I do know I am glad I had a girl.
When he was five he started asking for a little sister. Idiot and I had talked about having more children. He was never sold on the idea early on but he got to a point where he said if that's what we wanted to do he was ready. So we started trying. Each month I would look for a positive result and each month I was disappointed. I had this image in my head of two little boys... for some reason I just knew I would have boys and it was ok... I really never had a desire to have a girl. I knew how girls operated... girls were HARD... girls were more difficult than boys... more complicated. I had a boy... I knew how it worked - he was easy therefore in my mind boys were easy. And besides... my mom and I never had a relationship where we did "girl things" together. I know we fought ... like all moms and daughters do... hell - like all parents and kids do, but there was something else there I think. From the time I was small my mom would always tell this "story." When I was a baby I wasn't very affectionate. I tolerated her - to use her words... and that just broke her heart. She said I preferred my dad and she felt left out. When my brother came along three years later she said he was loving and happy and he was cuddly and affectionate with her. That's been the basis for the dynamic in our family ever since. She is very protective of my brother... very tolerant of his behavior, she is his confidant. I, ironically, am hers. Anyway - we didn't do mother daughter stuff together. Rarely did we shop - we didn't do hair or nails... no eyebrow waxing or plucking... we didn't shop for a wedding dress together - she didn't help me get dressed or do my make up. We never shared the mundane so sharing the extraordinary didn't happen either.
Over two years after we started trying for a baby I finally discovered I was pregnant. That in itself is a whole other story... and when I realized I was I also realized I found myself hoping it was a girl. Not sure why... I just did. My pregnancy with her was very much like my pregnancy with her brother... but being a little older and wiser (they are eight years apart) her birth was different. I had no epidural with her - all natural (the only way to go I am convinced) and I nursed her. I dressed her in pink... bows in her hair (which never stayed)... she was my baby doll - at least temporarily (until she hit four when she started to insist she choose her own clothes - at four it was nothing but dresses, at five it was anything but).... She has her own mind... a good thing I think - and we have locked horns on more than one occasion in her twelve tender years here on this earth. She is everything in me that is good and right and honest and pure. She is often the only reason I keep going... she is the one person in all of this who has lost the most. Son was 18 when idiot left... he remembers times when his dad was there - he remembers how his dad used to be... daughter doesn't. He doesn't attend her dances... he doesn't come and watch her practice... he doesn't know her - not at all....
Last night we decided to try out the new flat iron on her hair. She took a shower, washed and dried her hair and then came and sat with me as we combed her hair - sectioned it off - and straightened it. We then did a french pedicure on her toes and she sheepishly looked at me and said, "Mom, will you do my finger nails too?" So I did. We spent probably an hour and a half doing hair and nails... pampering her.... She woke up this morning still excited about how straight her hair is, how soft it feels and how glad she is we bought a new flat iron. She gushed in her preteen language... her face all smiles, her body twirling on her dancers toes - and I it made me feel like maybe I am doing something right after all. I missed having this closeness with my mom. I missed being pampered, I missed spending that kind of time with my mom... doing these simple little primping rituals somehow seems to be tied to a healthy self image... by letting her feel comfortable enough to accept it, letting herself openly experience it, letting herself be cared for... maybe it will make a difference. Or maybe I just felt like I missed something that really wasn't all that important. I don't know what the answer is... but I do know I am glad I had a girl.
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