I think there’s nothing more amazing than being a mother.
It is crazy, but from the first time I laid eyes on my children, I began making comparisons to who they look like. As babies, it was who’s feet and hands does she have … does he have my eyes? As they got older and began to become more themselves, other traits and interests emerged.
Parenting a daughter is for me more difficult than parenting a son … at least for right now. I shun the idea that a correct assessment could be made by saying it has anything to do with me having lost my own mother. I doubt that at all. I do though, see clearly that I want for my daughter to be like me – driven. I want for her goals to be similar to mine … to be the best. PERIOD. I have a tendency to push my daughter harder than my son, and luckily, Brian has a tendency for the opposite. He pushes James Edward harder than Victoria Ann. That is why it is almost impossible to correctly parent without both parents working together!
There’s got to be a common ground in parenting that I am coming to find more of a reality than an anomaly. Like in a successful marriage, after all the butterflies leave the air and the years set in, you have to have something else – commonalities. This is why I never could nor will I ever understand all the marriages between people of vastly different walks of life. Brian and I have “meat and taters” stuff we like and stuff we agree on. These hobbies, interests and ideals have to be intertwined, otherwise the relationship fails. Being raised in the same small town and going to church and activities together has helped too, I am sure.
Parenting is complex and scores of books have been written on the parenting of a same sex child. Opposite sex parenting, on the other hand, is easier. Fathers and daughters and mothers and sons supposedly have a special relationship. That is, of course, the excuse made when eyes roll at the antics of a mother-in-law or the hysterical father of the bride when fathers feel like they are loosing a precious daughter. The dichotomy of parenting a same sex child lends itself to seeing more imperfections in oneself, and sometimes, the desire to mold the child into something you wanted to be or once were. That, I think, is the key to understanding why so many mothers and daughters fight particularly during the teen years.
I began to discover a clearer picture of how commonalities played an intrinsic part of my relationship with my daughter after she began attending ballet. I had signed her up for ballet when she was very little and after a recital, she was disinterested. “Oh well, I thought. She’s not going to be a ballerina…. moving on!” But as she turned 13, she began to show interest in the stage. She surprised us by doing karaoke to a packed house. Later, she wrote her own songs and won in talent shows. She asked to take ballet, and I shopped for what I believed to be a perfect studio. I knew she knew I had taken ballet from first grade through high school, and although I never made a big deal out of it, I truly love ballet. Eventually I danced in a company and performed on pointe.
Each Monday night, it became a big deal for me and only me to take her to dance. I would pack up the iPad and grocery list and drop her off for the class. Instead of fighting with her brother in the car or trying to play really loud what I call “BOOM BOOM BOOM” music, she actually wanted to talk to me. We became increasingly closer, and I looked forward to taking her and watching her dance. Within weeks she was asking for pointe shoes, and I knew she had the legs (They are mine! LOL) strong enough to do it! I just smiled and explained to her that it had taken me years of preparation to get pointe shoes. Eventually, her teacher observed her and granted her permission to get those shoes. It was a wonderful evening seeing the sparkle in her eyes and the anticipation of getting to do this. I remembered the day I got my own.
Now, I have a ballerina who after school, puts on pointe shoes and walks around the house in the special slippers on her toes. I have to say it … “Just like me!” Recently, I told her of how each pair of my toe shoes had hung off my canopy bed. Once their boxes were broken, they had to be replaced, but I never threw any of them away! “I took them off my bed and packed them up when your Daddy and I got married,” I told her. “They are in the attic somewhere!” She looked at me and smiled. Commonalities. Ballet has brought us closer. I am looking forward to when she will perform. I want to sit front and center for her, for my mother that never got to see me do it, and of course, for myself!
