The Oldest

                                    
I have faith that my youngest will come back to me because my oldest did. It started at the end of 4th grade, the attitudes and eye rolling. Moms of early bloomers get extra years of this kind of behavior. *sigh* I wanted to kill the child in 5th grade but she started to come back to me by the end of 6th grade.

We have an incredibly close relationship. She texts me throughout the day, we send memes to each other, if she hears a song she thinks I'll like, she sends it to me. She still wants me to come have lunch with her at school. So, I do that once a month. That's our special time. She will hug me in front of her friends, she wants me to chaperone every field trip, and be at every event. She talks to me about almost everything- the good, bad, and the ugly. There is a trust and understanding between us that I am grateful for.

She is really coming into her own. The middle school years have not been easy ones but this year has been a good year. I can't really put my finger on it but there is a calmness about her, a quiet confidence that was bubbling under the surface that has started to spill over.

She came home from school one day in October and declared, "I'm not being friends with people who are not good for me or make me feel bad."
"Okay. Tell me more about this."
"I just told them that we are different people now and even though I love them, we can't be friends anymore," she said just matter-of-factly.
"Were you mean about it?"
"No. I mean, I'll still say hi and be nice but I'm not going to pretend to be someone that I'm not. I'm tired of that."

I thought that was a pretty profound realization for a 13 year old. She did exactly that. She ended some old friendships and started some new ones. Her circle is small but there is little to no drama. She is a lot happier.

She spends most of her time doing homework and playing the flute.  She's been playing for the past 45 minutes as I write this. That's not to say she's not a normal teenager- she spends a fair amount of time scrolling through Instagram, painting her nails while listening to indie music, and taking selfies and sending them out on Snapchat.

She is an old soul. She takes on a lot of responsibility. She has to wake up for early band practices multiple times a week. I NEVER have to get her up. Even on the days we have to leave the house before dawn. She gets herself up at 5:30, and has her stuff together. She cleans her room on Sundays, I never have to get on her for that (not that I would, it's her space). If she needs clothes washed and forgot to put them in the hamper, she does her own laundry. She likes to cook. A few weekends ago she made us this delicious linguine tossed in a cheese butter sauce with sauteed portobello mushrooms and crushed garlic. I'm impressed with her cooking skills.

She likes to nap and drink camomile tea with a touch of honey. She loves classical music, film scores and Lana del Rey. She is amazing at doing hair and makeup and is a creative spirit. She likes to paint and write. She's a joy to be around. She can be salty, but 90% of the time she is pleasant and jovial.

She's struggled in school. She is a B student mostly. A few A's a few B's and always a C in math. Math is the bane of her existence. She has never made the honor roll because she always has a 78 in math. That is okay with me- she works hard for that 78. She is in Alegbra 1 this year, which is a high school class.

Earlier in the year she brought home a progress report that was crap. She was so upset about it and in full breakdown mode. I told her to pull up Powerschool and she had a bunch of 0s for homework assignments.
"Why aren't you turning in your homework?"
"It's only a few. Besides, it's only 5% of my grade," she said.
I gave her the speech I've been giving her the past 3 years. "School is a numbers game. If you aren't a strong test taker, you have to turn in all of your homework and classwork and do test corrections EVERYTIME. It's not a ton of extra effort and even though it might not seem like it matters - 1 point here and 2 points here will add up. Just look over your notes before your tests. You are smart, get your shit together."

She has to be self motivated. I am not going to micro-manage her school work. I am not going to stand over her and make her study every night. I am not emailing her teachers to give her extra credit. I'm just not.

I don't know what it was that finally "clicked" in her but she actually *GASP* listened to me. Guess what? This semester she made the honor roll. For the first time in 3 in a half years. Not only did she make the honor roll, she made an A in Algebra. She is so happy and I'm proud of her.

She is an all-around great kid but I don't believe she is perfect by any means and that's not to say we don't have our disagreements. Just the other weekend, I dropped her off at the mall with a friend. I gave her some money to buy a pretzel and a little something for herself. When I picked her up she had a bag from Pacsun.

"What did you get?" I asked.
She pulled out this cropped tank top that was skimpy as hell. "Do you like it?" she asked.

God. This is a test. My visceral reaction was: That shirt is slutty. Who does she think she is? You are going to march her ass back into the store and make her take it back and show her that you are the PARENT and she is the CHILD. Then, on the way home you are going to give her a lecture about modesty and being an appropriate young woman. 

I had to check myself then. Stop being a judgmental asshole. You don't believe in slut shaming. Insisting that she take the shirt back will only cause a huge argument and put space inbetween us. Is it worth it to feel like you have power and control? Does she really need another lecture? Doesn't she already know your feelings about most everything? 

All these things were running through my head. I thought very carefully before I spoke. This is how I responded, "I really like the color. It's not something you could wear to school or something dad and I would approve of you wearing out and about. But you could definitely wear it in the house, or under a V-neck tee or maybe with the summer coming up, over your bathing suit top at the beach or the pool."

"Yeah, I was thinking maybe with high-waisted jeans and like, a sweater," she added.

Then, that was it. She put the shirt back in the bag and we went on our way. I felt conflicted. Did I do the right thing? I felt I did the right thing for my kid and it is indicative of my parenting style. But I questioned myself.

The next day, I sent her off to school and late that morning I got a text from her: Mom, can we go back to the mall tonight? I want to take back that shirt I got. It's not really my style.

I was like:

          

That's what we did. She returned the shirt and got an adorable, mom-approved striped tee. Without me bitching, without a battle, she used good judgement and I felt vindicated. I love moments like that.

We got back in the car to drive home, she put on Symphony Number 25 in G minor and hummed along. I glanced over at her and remarked at how beautiful she has become. My big girl.

The Little One

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Things in my house are changing, transforming. They have been for years, I guess but when you are in the midst of it you don't realize it. Then one day, you wake up and suddenly things are different.

My youngest daughter is my strong willed child. When she was younger, we called her our highly explosive, chronically inflexible child. In spite of this, she was always my loving child. If I was sitting down, she was in my lap. She was sweet as pie.

Then, in the beginning of 5th grade, someone took my sweet child and replaced her with a grumpy, eye-rolling young lady. No more hugs, extreme embarrassment at being seen with me in public, general disdain for my existence.

This has been extremely difficult. While I don't take it personally, it's hurts my heart. However, the last few months have been better. She's leveled out a little bit. She lets me talk when we are out in public, sometimes she even will hang out with us.

She was obsessed with not having a Valentine for Valentines Day. Which is ridiculous, because she is in 6th grade and home schooled, but whatever. A few days before Valentines Day, she asked if we could be each other's Valentine.

I was surprised. It was unlike her. "You want ME to be YOUR Valentine?"
She shrugged, "Sure, we can go out to lunch and watch a romantic movie together."
"Okay."

She did a short school day that day and we went our for hoagies together and watched Revenge of the Bridesmaids. She sat right next to me on the couch and leaned her head on my shoulder. I was in heaven.

We picked up my oldest from school that day and took Hollister boy home as he had a gift for my oldest. He came out with a stuffed panda and a giant box of chocolates but he had another box of chocolates and a letter which he gave to my youngest. I thought that was a sweet gesture. She was beyond thrilled.

She read the letter but wouldn't let me read it. Typical. I dropped her off from gymnastics that day and I did what any nosey mom would do- I read the letter. The gist of it was- I know you are sad that you don't have a Valentine but one day you will have a Valentine, and that person will be so lucky because you are amazing, never sell yourself short, be happy.....You know, words of wisdom coming from a 14 year old boy. It was a big brother type thing. I smiled and left it in her room with her chocolates.

That night when I picked her up - she chatted excitedly about gymnastics. She was happy. We sang along to Micheal Jackson's "Say You'll Be There." She had me cracking up. "Remember Free Willy? I don't understand all of these kids that are obsessed with saving whales, making tails for dolphins, finding fish....."

I worry about her sometimes because her likes are so eclectic. I think she sometimes has a hard time relating to kids her own age. Take her taste in music - she loves showntunes. LOVES. We listen to Hamilton, Anything Goes, Chicago, Jesus Christ Superstar, Phantom of the Opera, Les Mis.....she knows them all. She LOVES Micheal Jackson, Frank Sinatra, anything 80s, japanese baby metal and modern rock. She's the coolest.

Her favorite movie is Dirty Dancing and when she's not doing gymnastics, she's reading manga or watching anime. She loves Japanese culture and shopping. She is extremely sarcastic and has a dry sense of humor and is so smart. Like, brilliant.

She is toying around with the idea of going back to school next year. If she does, she can start taking some high school credit since she is 2 years ahead in math. She recently has started asking questions about college and how that all works and has expressed interest in possibly joining the Air Force. The other day she said, "The thing is, I don't know exactly what I want to do. There are just so many options!"

I laughed, "Well, you are only 11 so you have LOTS of time to figure it out."
"What if we go to Japan and I want to move to Japan?" she asked.
"Well, then move to Japan. Me and dad will have somewhere fun to visit."

I hope she has lots of adventures in her lifetime, most of all - I hope she's happy.

This is where we are now. This new person, with glimpses of my little girl. She still won't willingly hug me if I ask, but sometimes she hugs me out of nowhere. I savor those moments. She will fist bump me if I ask, so that's progress.

This is the new reality for me. That in this blur of parenthood, we traded naps, sippy cups and bedtime stories for pre-Algebra, push-up up bras and talks about joining the Air Force. If I think about it too much, I will fall apart. It hits me randomly and I have a good cry (far way from the children) and then put myself together and move forward.

That's all I know how to do.

Love is Not a Linear Thing

Here is my obligatory anniversary post. We just celebrated 17 years together (coming up on 16 years married in June). I think it's ridiculous - we're only like 21. haha. I've always done the math as the years have gone by - we've been together for 1/4 of my life, a 1/3 of my life.... Seventeen years marks a half of my life. After that day, I've been tethered to him longer than I haven't. That gives me pause.

We were teenagers when we fell in love- so young. I remember that everyone around me discounted it, but I didn't care. I knew that the feeling that I had was as close as I'd come to understanding love. I needed him like I needed air in my lungs, he was the sun in my sky and there was absolutely nothing I (or anyone else) could have done to stop it. When we were together it was like a thousand lightning bolts running through me. It was a beautiful time- we were young and carefree and everything was fresh and new. It was long kisses on chilly New Jersey summer nights, and holding hands in the hallway between classes, and going to the movies and a little bit of sneaking around. We both treasure that time and re-visit it occasionally. There a few things better in life than being young and in love.

But, we are older now and have a teenage daughter of our own (I'll have 2 teenage daughters in 16 months) and that complicates things a little bit. People say things to me like, "Don't tell my kid that you married your high school sweetheart," "Do your kids know?", or "You wouldn't endorse that to your children do you?" People get really butt hurt about it.

We've never kept it a secret from them (also, they can do math) but I certainly don't endorse teenagers getting married. I always tell them they need to wait until they finish college to get married AT LEAST. I talk about our struggles very openly. It's not easy to be married and support yourself at the age of 18. I also had 2 kids while I was in college which was extremely difficult. I remind my kids all the time that their father and I are exceptions to the rule. Most teen marriages end in divorce in the first 10 years, most live in poverty, only 19% of married teens attend college and of those, only 2% earn a degree.

The children have only remembered us to have a happy marriage (we always joke that the first 9 years of our marriage were the toughest - since then it's been blissful). A few weeks ago, we were sitting with each other, curled up on the couch watching a movie and laughing. He kissed me on the forehead. My oldest daughter was sitting across from us on the love seat. "You and dad are goals," she said.

In teenage talk, goals is short for relationship goals which is a slang term to describe a power couple, a couple that every couple aspires to be like. I was surprised that she said that but I felt weird about it. Like, I'm happy that she thinks we have a good relationship but I also don't want her to think people get married when they are teenagers and it just works out fine and dandy. You know?

They are forming their opinions about these things and they are paying attention. They're interest is piqued a little- it's that age. At the end of one of the snow days, my husband was back at work but school was still out. I lit a fire, fixed myself a cup of coffee, and sat down to watch How To Make An American Quilt. It's one of my favorites. My oldest came down to join me. The movie tells the tale of different women's love stories. In one of the stories, a young couple falls in love and they have children and life gets in the way and eventually the husband leaves and never comes back.

My daughter was horrified. "He just left her? They loved each other! They had 3 kids!" She is still figuring things out. "They fell out of love with each other. They made plans to see the world but life and children happened. When they got married, they were different people. She changed and he didn't. I'm not saying that it was okay for him to leave but it happens all the time. Marriage is not a fairy tale. Love is not a linear thing. It can be messy and complicated sometimes."
"Do you think that could happen to you and dad?"
That was a loaded question. "I don't have a crystal ball and I don't intend on it. Besides, if he tries to leave - I'll follow him. He'd never escape that easily."

But it's true- people fall out of love all the time and in long term marriages you fall in and out of love. I wish I knew the secret or had some grand advice about how love is supposed to be. All I know is that I hope that they find someone someday that treats them the way their father treats me, to be their best friend, to make them laugh and feel beautiful. To be committed to building a life together, to hang on when things are rough. Someone willing to wake up with them at 2 am to clean up vomit and kiss them afterwards. AFTER COLLEGE. What more can you ask for?

We are a strange couple. When we first got together, we had nothing in common. We both liked hoagies and being on each other. That was it. If we are struggling, we just go back to basics. "Ummmm.....I know you are pissed at me but you wanna go get hoagies and be on each other?" LOL. When we first got married we would go to the movies and see different movies because our tastes were so different. He is quiet, I am a talker. I could never be married to someone like myself- no one would get a word in edge wise. He is technical and I am emotional. It's worked out because we both make up for the skills that the other lacks and balance out each other's flaws.

We are still working on growing up but we're doing it together. We are forgiving of each other's shortfalls and we just try to be be there for each other. We try to still keep it interesting.

Last week, I got home from picking our youngest up from gymnastics. It was a warm, clear night. I sent her upstairs to shower and pulled a blanket into the front yard and laid it across the grass. Then, I went to track down my husband. He was in the kitchen giving the cat treats. "Close your eyes and come with me," I said.
"Why?" he asked.
"It's a surprise."
He looked at me suspiciously but held his hand out to mine and closed his eyes.

I led him outside and stood him in front of the blanket. "Okay, lay down."
He did and I laid down too and curled up next to him.
"Open your eyes."
He did. "What are we doing?"
"Looking at the stars."

We did. I pointed to the sky, "Do you see that?" I said, "That's Orion."
"No it's not."
"I know. I just wanted you to think I knew about stars."
He laughed. We laid out there for a long time - star gazing and talking about UFOs and making jokes.

Someone walked by with their dog.
"They are going to think we're weirdos, laying here in the front yard," he whispered to me.
"That's because we are weirdos," I whispered back.

I nuzzled into him and his beard brushed my face. He smelled like old spice and soap. And a thousand lightning bolts ran through me.