This is where I break out into a verse of “The Circle of Life”
I took my girls out to lunch the other day at the new Moe’s Southwest Grill that wandered into our neighborhood. We had the most amazing conversation that ranged from them wondering whether Joe and I regretted not having children together, to what would happen to their half-sister, Molly, who has severe Cerebral Palsy, if their Dad and stepmom died.
After lunch I had some errands at Walgreens and they went along. Little One riffled through my 80s playlist on my MP3, and changed all the words to Mommy. So we all sang along to “Come on Mommy”, “Should I Mom or Should I Go”, and “Mom after Mom”. I couldn’t help but think that my 16-year-old self would have been horrified at the musical maiming. But then, My 16-year-old self probably would have looked up to a car full of 17-and 20-year-olds.
When the girls were little the three of us lived in a big apartment complex and would often walk to the drugstore, still in our wet bathing suits, to get popsicles after the pool closed. We’d head over there when we were overcome by an insane craving for chocolate, or when it was time to try on some makeup or give press-on nails a try (I think every girl has to try them at least once). I was remembering how Little One was always scampering to catch up because she stopped to check out an ant’s nest or readjust her flip flops, and how First Born, barely shoulder-high to me, chattered and made jokes until we’d have to stop with our hands on our knees, laughing and gasping for breath.
And then I had a moment of deep cognitive dissonance in the store when FB said, “I want to have you all come over for dinner. I want to cook for you guys.” Suddenly the shadowy shape of little funny Jessie blurred into the outline of my grown up daughter, just over shoulder high, whose face has become my own, though her figure is much more lovely. And there was a deep yearning splitting me two ways, for those golden, wonderful days when they were children and my favorite people in the whole world, and for the wonderful, hardly imaginable future of having these girls as my friends and companions.
And I am so blessed.
Published by angelawd on March 30th, 2008 tagged Mom of Teens
March 30th, 2008 at 11:26 pm
Someday, I’ll get there…
March 31st, 2008 at 1:33 pm
That’s dang funny, Angela. You didn’t have any Quiet Riot on that list, did you? Idk, *^& on Feel the Mom….that’s not right! xo
March 31st, 2008 at 2:51 pm
Suburban, it’s coming - and it will be great!
Stacey, I’ve given my Quiet Riot to my little one who is a big fan of 80s big hair bands. I raised her right!! And yeah, Come on Feel the Mom is just wrong.
March 31st, 2008 at 9:54 pm
I don’t think I have ever read such a beautiful tribute to daughters than what I have just read. Might I add that your daughters seem to be pretty well blessed too.
March 31st, 2008 at 11:35 pm
Thank you, Jo. What a kind thing to say! And I enjoyed a visit to your blog, too.
April 1st, 2008 at 3:16 pm
I love the 80s! My iPod is filled with ye olden music of that era.
In other news, I woke up with my sinuses feeling like the Sahara on fire and whipped out my neti pot. I thought of you as I did my healing (Ow! It burns! It’s like inhaling a swimming pool!) rinse.
I will admit: it does feel better.
April 1st, 2008 at 6:30 pm
Pamela, I like you already! 80s music rocks.
So sorry about your sinuses. The neti pot IS like inhaling a swimming pool. Glad it helped, though.
April 1st, 2008 at 11:19 pm
angelawd,
Loved your post. My boys are 12 and 10. I value are bond more than anything. I loved hearing about you and your daughters. I love the 80s too.
April 3rd, 2008 at 2:25 pm
Thanks, Robert! Our children are such a blessing, even in the teen years when they get an attitude sometimes. I applaud you for developing such a strong bond with your own boys!
April 8th, 2008 at 12:23 am
You give me hope that some day mine will reach something close to normal. I needed that today because it’s been one of her many one-step-backward days. Thanks for the shining a little light at the end of this long, dark tunnel. xoxoxo
April 8th, 2008 at 2:10 pm
Damama, I’m so sorry. And she’s taking one step back after things were looking up, too! We need to keep each other focused on the light at the end of the tunnel - hope is there.