(with apologies to Robert M. Pirsig)
Teen daughter calls me not too long ago.
"I got a new piercing!" She says.
"Where?" I ask, more than a little afraid of the answer.
"I got an 'Industrial.'" She says, skirting the answer.
I sigh. "WHAT part of your body is that in?"
"My ear." I sigh again, this time with relief. "Your ear is fine. Be home before midnight."
Seventeen years ago I thought that parenting just entailed a good manual and a lot of love. My older sister gave me her copy of "Your Baby and Child: from birth to age 5" by Penelope Leach. I figured I was set. And believe me, Penelope didn't steer me wrong. It's just that over the years circumstances came up that weren't easily solved by a book. What to do when your choice is between working nights or working a day job but taking a $15,000 a year pay cut? And how do you find a baby sitter when you're working the overnight shift, anyway? How do you date with a small child? And most important: how to explain to small child why the guy she calls "Daddy" isn't really available when she needs him most.
I'm sure someone, somewhere has covered these problems in a book, but that's not really the point. The point is that no matter how prepared you think you are, mistakes are going to be made, stuff's going to happen. I look back on my 20's and wonder how someone (me) could be so clueless and still be entrusted with the care of a child. I compare with how I'm raising a child in my 40's. I have more patience, less energy. I can stick to a routine better. I certainly have more money, although outside of dire poverty or extravagant wealth, children don't really notice, I think.
I had a coworker once tell me that she wasn't going to breastfeed her second child because she couldn't breastfeed the first and she didn't want to give one an advantage the other didn't get. As bizarre as I found her reasoning, I can empathize. I worry that teen daughter will be scarred for life if the toddler has something she didn't have: listening to classical music, trips to the Met, an appreciation of sushi at an early age. I don't know what all, just that Mommy Guilt is alive and well and a terrible thing. Coupled with it is the strong suspicion that anything bad she does is the result of the time I came to pick her up from daycare late. She was the last kid there and every emergency contact had already been called and my daughter cried when anyone was late picking her up ever again.
This past year, said daughter(now the teen with the piercings) worked on an independent project for school. On her own she found a mentor, kept a journal, worked for a year on her chosen subject and then presented her project to a group of invited friends and relatives. She even made her own programs for the presentation. Her subject-Fiber Arts-spinning, weaving, knitting and felting. Her mentor owns a Saori weaving business on the Upper East Side. Saori embodies the principles of Zen, there are no teachers, only practitioners. Every Saturday, she ventured forth to the Isle of Manhattan and learned how to set up and work a loom. In exchange for free lessons, she helped around the shop, including helping the students who came in for lessons. One Saturday, I came in to film her on the loom for her presentation. Yukako, her mentor told me how helpful she was, how good she was at spinning and weaving. Jen even had a piece she made exhibited at an art show. It was amazing to hear someone else describe my daughter to me. I know she's helpful and kind and talented, but too often that gets lost in the worry that my teenager is too obnoxious, too moody, too unmotivated. I worry that her inability to keep her room clean with translate into a later inability to find and keep gainful employment. Her mentor told me that Jen had helped teach a class of disabled children and was very good at it. Several worries popped all at once, like the soap bubbles we used to blow when she was little.
Later on, I let her direct me on the subway. "No, Mom, we go THIS way." She made her way through Manhattan like a native. I let her guide me, proud that she was coming into her own and I was just "Mom". Earlier in the day my taxi driver had asked why I was in the city and I said, "I'm visiting my daughter." The words seemed grand coming out of my mouth, but very right. The feeling won't last forever, but for right now I'm sure she'll make her way in the world just fine.
That night I left her in the city to shop for a prom dress. A few hours later I get a text from her. With a picture. "Is that ANOTHER PIERCING!" I yell to my husband. "IN HER MOUTH!" Sigh.
5 comments:
I am amazed that teen daughter is the same little girl I met at her 7th birthday party when she thought Barbi was the best thing in the world. You have both come a very long way. You have done a fabulous job raising each other! If the worse thing she ever does is pierce a part of her body that you don't "approve" of, then I think you really have nothing to worry about! I love you both very much!
It is normal to have these fears. In my experience, piercings is the least of the worries, especially as it seems your daughter has a good head on her shoulders. I understand the difficulty in deciding how to balance work and life. You made the right choices, and she'll be fine.
Haha. Lucky you she didn't have the idea of prolonging your agony over not knowing where she got pierced.
If only there is a definitive parenting manual. but of course, this'll only work if all children came out the same.
Sons and daughters do come to their own eventually. The trends may be different but the circumstances are the same for every generation of parents. All were once teenagers.
Stumbled on your blog and was hoping that you and your readers would be interested in this.
http://www.firstgiving.com/hallietwomey
6 years ago Saturday, my Dad received a new heart. He lived in a Boston hospital for 98 days basically waiting to get a new heart or to die. It was that cut and dry. The doctor’s were brutally honest….at 59, he would die without a transplant. While there, we watched as several of his floormates died before a heart became available. It was hard. Very hard. Yet it happens more time each day than I care to think about.
Since that day (June 13th, 2003) I have passionately wanted to do SOMETHING, ANYTHING to help raise awareness about organ donation. I always believed that if my Dad’s story helped change even one person’s mind, then I would be a very happy daughter.
But you know what? I want to do more. I want to help in a BIG WAY.
I’ve been debating how one thankful daughter can make a difference, How I can help spread the word. How I can best honor not only my Dad but the memory of the donor as well.
What I know is that more eduaction is needed and that more people need to learn why organ donation is so very important. What I’ve found is that for some people, until they are faced with a loved one (or themself) needing an organ, they don’t necessarily think about it. I wish that NO ONE ever had to face the excruciating choice involved in donating their loved ones organs, but I know that will never happen. If my Dad’s donor family had NOT agreed to donate their son’s heart, my Dad would not be here today.
What I decided to do is to hold a raffle in August to raise as much money as I possibly can. All the money I raise will be turned over to UNOS, an organization that works dilligently to raise organ donation awareness.
Hope you and your readers might hop over and check it out. There will be 25 amazing prize packages raffled off with items totaling thousands of dollars.
Thanks in advance for your time,
Hallie
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