On Raising Girls

I gave birth to a daughter who is nothing like me and it astounds me on the daily. Every year I look at her and she strays more and more from me than I could ever have pictured. It is both parts terrifying and amazing. A few years ago, when she made up her mind to be on a travel team, she had a teammate over to spend the night. It wasn’t someone we had ever had over before, so I did all the things you do when that happens. Which is to say, I emptied all the clutter into the junk drawer, put out fresh towels, and moved the laundry to the basement, poof, clean, done. I noticed her teammate had a cough and so being the asthmatic, nurturer that I am, I got zero sleep that night. Every time this girl would cough, I would wonder, does she need water, the bathroom, lemon tea, Zarbees cough syrup. Would her Mom allow her cough syrup? Better stick with the honey and lemon tea. I had all these thoughts going about how to help this little coughing baller. The next day, as I am walking around zombie-like, I said to my Nat, I didn’t sleep a wink Nat, worried about your friend and if they needed something and she answered me so quickly, so surprisingly, with:

“If someone, can’t sleep, thats on them. I never let anyone else ruin my sleep.”

When she said this, I thought good God I have raised a monster. How could she not care how the little cougher is doing? But then I was instantly jealous. Do you know how much sleep I have lost over other people’s actions towards me, or what I perceive them to be? I lay awake at night worrying about how I said something a certain way and did the friend take that the certain way, or did I perhaps offend them? It is truly exhausting to worry like that. So I thought, how lovely and liberating to just sleep when you want to sleep and just let the chips fall where they do. And thats my girl.

I have gotten after her in basketball, in karate, in anything she has tried, because she is not a bubbly push it through communicator. She plays awesome defense, but is not one to shout go to that place, or stand there, or get out of my way or I’ll trip your ass. No she is an operator, communicating with body language only and letting go of most of the verbal crap. As a vocal verbal gal myself, this is confusing. How does one know where to go for the play if you don’t say it, swear it, spit it at them while gasping for air? I have watched her play with her friend Emilie and she will say I do talk to Emilie, I don’t need it to be loud enough for people on the bleachers to here. And she doesn’t. And she isn’t showy either. She never plays sports with a gimme moment and an MVP attitude. She plays for herself, for her team but none of the other shit. I am so jealous, as I have always worried about the other shit. Ahhh freedom.

As she gets set to enter sixth grade, which I consider to be the mean girl time, the Regina George time. I am not always sure how I should be supporting her. The her that can come off as prickly when she just doesn’t care to fit in all that much, the her that laughs at awkward moments because she is uncomfortable by the silence, the her that lights up when friends want to face time with her and then confused when they leave her out of their call. This is all normal stuff. This is all run-of-the-mill make it through middle school BS. But I know how I handled it and maybe that is wrong. I know I was nice, always good. Yes, to wearing the right clothes and the right sleepovers and saying I had crushes on certain boys, even though I thought really some of them were ass-hats. So the other day she asked me for advice. She didn’t use the word advice, but in my head I added it in and I was excited, because so rarely has my pre-teen asked for advice in her 11 years, that it felt like a big Tanner-Michelle moment from Full House. Here it was. It was time for me to do something for this kid. This kid that had by and large up to this point, made her own way in the world without my help.

And then she said sometimes when I am messaging with my friends, I can’t tell if they are mad or not and then when they sign off I still don’t know and I can’t see them at school to ask them. And I thought shit. Here we go, corona, as if you haven’t done enough, now you have made my parenting job exponentially harder. So at first I told her, well reach out to people, be kind to everyone and then I just scrapped that stuff. That was my advice for my old me and I said if a conversation doesn’t make you feel good with a friend whether you are in person or texting, then don’t keep doing it. You can be nice, you can be polite, but conversations and friendships should feel good for the most part.

I decided right then and there. I don’t want her to be like me. I just want her to stay like her and bending to fit in doesn’t always make you happy. So don’t. Find your people, whether it’s one or ten and do activities, find joy in what makes you happy and piques your interest and feeds your soul. But don’t spend time guessing what might make everyone happy and trying to be that arbitrary thing.

We ended the conversation with me asking about boys and her telling me to take a hike, so I know I went too far. But I never know when to stop ya know? I am an overcommunicator raising a kid who is an undercommunicator, but a force to be reckoned with just the same. To her, communicating should have a purpose, an end game. She hates what if conversations and should I conversations. And you know what. Maybe she is on to something. This girl of mine. I think I could learn a thing or two from her.