Tag Archives: daughter

I Wanna Hold Your Hand

I want to hold her hand…forever.

The love of my life has been twelve for not quite a month and in that short time and especially lately, I have been taught some hard lessons.

Like I am pretty sure I need her more than she needs me.

At least that is the vibe she is sending me.

She recently was away with her Dad for a week. I texted her everyday. Her answers back were short. Meanwhile, I’m at home practically begging the dog to hang out with me. It’s not that I don’t want her to have fun, but can she miss me. A little?

She definitely laments when I feel compelled to sing loudly to music in the car, but I feel that is actually a rule for tweens.

She has remarked once or twice I dress like a teenager. But again, I feel that’s a requirement.

The punch to the guts are being asked why I am in her room. Do I plan on staying. Tucking herself in and now not even really saying goodnight to me.

Maybe I get a good morning.

If… I’m lucky.

However, the one that stung the hardest was a recent Saturday we spent together.

G & I make sure every Saturday we make plans. It can be as simple as watching a movie to as complex as a road trip, but with her fast approaching her teen years I want time with her. It’s our time to put everything away and just be.

We went and grabbed lunch and as we were getting ready to leave I asked her if she wanted to go anywhere else.

She said the mall.

I think I almost spit out my tea. My sweet girl is not a shopper. The only way she will go to Target is if I feed her and stick to a list. If we do go shopping once she is done. She is DONE.

I asked her again just so I was sure.

She said yes.

She wanted to go to Hot Topic.

There it was!

Hot Topic is her place. My free spirit loves anime and t-shirts and plushies (that’s tween for stuffed animals).

Hot Topic carries all her favorite shows and movies in some form of backpack, shirt or pin.

I sighed and said fine.

She smiled – huge.

I have always been the Mom who holds my child’s hand. Because I love her and I’m a bit overprotective.

We walk into the mall I hold my hand out which is code for grab my hand. My dutiful daughter does but also lets out a huge sigh.

I say quietly while we are walking “if it’s uncool to hold my hand I get it. You don’t have to hold my hand.”

She drops my hand and says “I’m letting go because you said I could, but yes it’s not cool.”

Mommas(!)

She must have noticed my face.

“Mom I love you, this is great. I will walk next to you.”

“Thanks, ok.” I squeak back.

We shop.

I spend WAY too much money on a t-shirt for her.

When we got home she thanked me and quickly retreated to her room.

I found her a bit later.

Asleep.

I laid next to her… she grabbed my hand and held it.

G and I continue to enter uncharted territory and it’s rough sometimes.

But this is what I know, I will be 100 and she will always be my baby, my sun, my moon, my stars, the reason I try to be better.

Even if she won’t hold my hand at the stupid mall.

Much love Mommas

<3 Caprise

Smoke and Mirrors

Smoke and mirrors…

I spent some time – (can I add a big hooray to that by the way) with one of my favorite humans this weekend helping her find a dress for a wedding. We started talking about relationships and appearances.

We are both on the later and earlier side of our 40’s and 50’s respectively. She was sharing conversations she had with another group of girlfriends all in different phases of relationships and how their partners talked to them.

If I’m being honest – this is fascinating to me. We live in a society that definitely plays both sides. Pinterest is FULL of inspirational quotes around loving yourself. When a magazine cover features a model who isn’t a size two, it’s revolutionary. YET the backlash is REAL. Even from those who love you.

Little comments… you’re going to wear that? That’s an interesting color. All those tattoos make you look tacky.

I have written about this before but I was picked on. A lot as a kid. I was the smallest, had problems with my teeth, glasses, and a skin condition. So even though I’m not that little kid anymore, I’m always going to be that little kid.

Which makes me super sensitive and very aware of how I look.

Throw in a marriage where EVERYTHING about me was picked apart. Followed by a long term relationship with a guy who scrutinized my appearance.

The internal struggle is real. I am a big hearted person who wears my heart on my sleeve. So unfortunately at 47 I’m still putting bandaids on some hurts.

But you know what? It’s unfortunate but it’s ok. We all have our stuff.

Here’s mine:

I am the lady who only recently started wearing leggings in public. I just bought my first pair of sweatpants. I also, always at a minimum wear lipgloss and mascara when I leave the house.

I realize as I typed that it’s pretty crazy pants. You want to know the even crazier part?

I don’t push any of this on my daughter.

Thankfully she doesn’t read these because I’m about to truth bomb…

Showering – umm do twelve year olds feel it’s not necessary? She has BEAUTIFUL hair, which she refuses to even put in braids! Please let your Mom style it? No. Ok. Doesn’t want earrings. The last time she wore a dress was for a play. She loves lipgloss however- ok that might be me a little. She has only mentioned her weight once and it was never mentioned again when we talked about how it’s about being healthy. She is so tall. Her favorite thing to do is show anyone and everyone she is taller than me.

She is solid in who she is.

And it’s magical. I love it and want to bottle it and spray that on me.

So even though inside I’m continuing to fight the age old battle of not feeling like I’m enough

because of how I look or even sometimes who I am, yes I realize how ridiculous that is. The smoke and mirrors are working and I’m somehow magically showing my daughter she is more than enough. No matter what she looks like, because that is absolutely not what it’s about.

Sidebar my magical creature recently had a birthday and donated almost all her birthday money to charity. And FYI this was the first year she got birthday money but felt that strongly she needed to help.

#proudmom

Mommas we are more than our outsides. We are Moms. That’s a hard job.

On my end I’m trying. I have a magical twelve year old who can get things off shelves for me looking at me and how I handle things. I gotta show her I really am the badass I pretend to be.

Much love Mommas

<3 Caprise

No More Goodnight

“Ok G ready to be tucked in?”

“I’m good Mom”

“What?”

“I’m going to tuck myself in.”

“Oh ok, Do you need anything, A hug?”

“Nope, Mom I’m good.”

“Juice?”

“Got it.”

“Ok well I love you.”

“I love you too Mom.”

That is when my eleven year old daughter broke my heart.

Bedtime is a ritual. It’s a treasured ritual. It’s sometimes the only time of the day I get to talk to G about her day where she is unfiltered. It’s when we cuddle. We joke. We even have our own poem. It’s been our thing since she was two.

I treasure that quiet with her, don’t get me wrong,when I’m an exhausted mess I would be a liar if I told you before she could read I didn’t edit stories so we could both get to sleep faster.

But this is different.

She chose this.

As she is a lot of things lately.

Which I’m happy about… her finding her footing, being comfortable and independent. But for nine years good, bad or otherwise she has been my solar system.

So much so she has never met a single person I’ve dated. I can hear your collective intake of breath and tongue clucks. Read my blog series… it will make sense.

Maybe

That’s not why we’re here. Another time. Another time.

I want my girl to feel secure but does this mean she doesn’t need me?

We have started entering the stage of one syllable answers to questions, if I get answer. I embarrass her now. Before if I broke out in song in the car she would have sang along, now she yells for me to stop.

She also comments on things about me she didn’t before.

I’ll just say it- how I look. How I act.

So this is new for me,as before I was Mom. Gorgeous no matter what. Perfect no matter what. Allowed to tuck in no matter what.

Now she sees me.

I mean really sees me.

My stress, my hurt, my happy. My silly. She doesn’t always like what she sees and she tells me.

She asks me point blank questions about things she never did before.

Honest.

Brutal.

The reality of not tucking her in is more than just not tucking her in.

She’s growing up. While I am incredibly proud of who she is becoming. I selfishly still want her to need me. Is she still going to need me?

Will you still need me …When I’m 64? Beatles song… sorry…

I am sure she does and will. I am 47 and when I’m sick all I want is my Mom, but I think you get it.

Relationships between Mothers and daughters can be fragile things. I’m scared.

What if I screw this up?

And now you know my secret. While I hate I’m not tucking her in. It  does mean some extra quiet time for me. Our majestic golden doodle now sleeps with her. Less chaos at bedtime because she is handling it.

But it also means we are entering those years.

The ones we see on the Lifetime movies, talk shows, The Kardashian’s.

Ok, I don’t watch that… but ack!

I certainly don’t want to be a cool Mom.  I mean, raise your hand if you saw Mean Girls?

Whoa

But I want to be someone she can come to. That is my fear. Or at the least if not me someone else and know she can send them my way after.

I went to college with women who couldn’t talk to their Moms. I am friends with women who couldn’t talk to their Moms. I sometimes can’t talk to my Mom.

I don’t want perfect but I want a balance. Guys,I am so terrified you know who will goof it up. I know I keep saying that, but I think sometimes as a single Mom we wear our worry and sadly guilt like jewelry, heavy around our necks. We don’t mean to, but for me I know I made the right choice but it’s still a tough one and it still is hard on her.

Deep breath….

For now I am going to still ask if she needs anything about three times at bedtime.

Sneak in after she’s asleep and kiss her forehead.

Revel in the fact that even though my poor baby had the worst tummy bug ever the other night guess who she had tuck her in?

That’s right.. the same lady who sings Jump Around at embarrassing levels in the school pick up lane.

We got this Mama.

At least I think we do.

Big loves Mamas

 

~~Caprise

Single Mom of the amazing Dbl G
Teacher
Sometime DJ
T-shirt collector
Henry Rollins Middle Aged Punk Prom Date

A Bunny Makes A Great Listener

As I am feeding fluids to my daughter’s new bunny with an eyedropper, I am abruptly reminded of my daughter’s first years where I had roughly the same fight each day. This bunny means so much to us and I tell him this. He needs to stick around.

There is no accurate way to describe the heavy, sick feeling of desperation and terror that accompanies having an infant who cannot breathe, who cannot nurse or easily drink. This bunny forces me to remember just how much I hate that feeling. “I can’t lose this one” should not be a mantra for your life yet it was mine for a very, very long time.

This little bunny reminds me of the painful past we both survived.

This little bunny reminds of all we do as Moms.

How we beat ourselves up, turn ourselves inside out, drag ourselves to work and back, power through a stomping child’s tantrums, emergency room visits and the landfill of toys that is your house.

This bunny reminds me of what I have done.

With complete certainty, I knew my daughter was meant for me. She was my Rory Gilmore. It was going to be rainbows and puppy dogs forever. We would hold hands and skip off into the sunset.

So why can’t we get out of our own way? Why can’t we just enjoy each other each day?

Sucked down in the muck of trudging to work (and school), the sadness of leaving them only to have your hopes dashed at the end of the day when, excited and happy to see your child, you get a possessed Linda Blair instead.

Why can’t I handle her moods better and create a warm-happy-daydream evening for us every day?

I dream of long vacations where there are no time constraints, no looming job over my head, no homework, no chores, no mess. When we do get a vacation every few years, it is bliss and flies by in a blink. So how do I create a vacation kind of bond with my child? How do I feed that tethered link of love and connection every day?

The answer I have is to listen.

Listen with my nose in my phone? Nope. I must listen with my whole being. Listening with all of my heart and my eyes wide open is like directing a beam of light shining down on her that says,
“I care. I give a crap. I want to know what you do, how you think, what you dream about.”

Obvious, right?

My challenge, see how long you can listen to your child without putting away groceries and turning away, without putting away clothes, cleaning up a mess. Just stop. Maybe it is not always feasible but the times you can, do it. Make it a habit. Research suggests it takes 21 days to form a habit so try for 21 days to take moments of the day to stop everything and listen.

I know. I am the only one that keeps us on a schedule too and in the morning I often say,
“You can tell me in the car.” ”You can tell me after we get home.”

Sometimes she just needs me to stop and I feel I have forgotten this.

This little bunny is part of my elaborate plan for everyday is a vacation, when you are doing what you love with the people you want to be with. This means mom-daughter bonding moments in the care and cuddling of bunnies and road trips to rabbit shows. We joined 4H, which means among other things, visits to farms, joining a rabbit club, holding and posing animals. “I recommend 4H for every child. There are limitless opportunities to grow and learn with 4H. Real world opportunities for kids to master their future. And for us, 4H is the vacation in everyday life that we get to repeat every week.

A lot rides on this little bunny. My daughter now has a little furry person of her own to worry about, to care for, love and cuddle. Who will hopefully drink.

Thank you little bunny. Good talk.

Bernae

Adventures in Parenting: I Cannot Tell A Lie

When I became a mom, a friend of mine told me that my child would eventually lie to me. Surely she wouldn’t. I hadn’t lied to my parents (well, hardly at all), and my child would be a better person than I am. My friend was wrong. Plain wrong.

Then it happened. My adorable daughter lied to me — shortly after she could construct complex sentences.

My two year old walked into the room wearing the jeans and t-shirt that I had put on her that morning, plus what looked like half a bottle of moisturizer — in her hair, on her shirt, and all over her jeans. Just then, the cat ran past me covered with what was obviously the rest of the moisturizer from the bottle.

So as an educated woman who had read all of the best parenting books, I asked my moisturizer-slathered cherub the stupidest question possible,

“Who put moisturizer on the cat?”

“He did it himself.”

She said this while looking me straight in the eyes. It was hard not to laugh, but the skill with which she had lied (minus the circumstantial evidence all over her and the poor cat) was unnerving. I hoped that I wasn’t raising a future criminal.

By the time she was five, my daughter had become more devious, but I could still stay one step ahead of her. Anytime she had something in her possession that she shouldn’t have, she hid it under her bed — every single time. When the Easter basket was missing a chocolate bunny that we were going to “save until after dinner”, I found the foil wrapper under her bed. Although she wasn’t sophisticated enough to change her hiding spot, she seemed genuinely contrite whenever I found something under her bed that shouldn’t be there. I counted guilt as progress.

Now that she is a teenager, trying to stay one step ahead of her is at best challenging. Instead, I strive to nurture both honesty and open communication. We have had many conversations that have included my saying, “If you are ever in a situation where you need a sober ride, call me. I may not be happy, but you know I love you and I want you to be safe.”

The other day, she explained to me that an older sister of one of her friends had texted while driving. This scared me, but I was glad that my daughter felt comfortable telling me about it. Apparently she asked the girl to put her phone down and told her that if she did it again, she wouldn’t ride with her.

Will my teenager lie to me? Surely she will. I also think that she will talk to me when it is important — and for that, I am grateful.

Liz Possible ​is a Writer and Single Mom Extraordinaire. She lives in Minnesota with her two teenage daughters and their cats, Beau and Phoebe. “Possible” is her attitude, not her legal name — but then you knew that. Follow Liz at her blog at www.lizpossible.com and her FaceBook page at https://www.facebook.com/MySingleMomLife/

The Greatest Loves Of My Life

I have 3 children who are the greatest loves of my life.  Honestly, I didn’t know I was capable of making something so perfect x 3. I am amazed and thankful each and every day that I have been blessed to spend with them-to call them mine-to raise and guide them and be their Mother. I have never felt a love so huge. I am far from perfect and have made so many mistakes.I try to the best of my ability and knowledge. There has been a lot of talk recently about getting “participation trophies” and being too lenient on the kids for just showing up. I can get behind that, I really can. I am not easy on my kids but there are things that I do that I most certainly am judged for.  I’m sure I am guilty of “participation trophies” on occasion for my children.  Yet for those who judge-there is so much more you don’t know. “Just showing up” sometimes is enough.

My oldest daughter is 19. She is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen both inside and out but she is fierce.  She tolerates little and has large opinions-much like her mother.  Through the years as I have matured I have also gained a filter-pick my battles-so to speak.  We are working on this with her 😉  She is in her 2nd year of college in the medical field, lives in her own apartment, works full time and maintains a 4.0 GPA. I am proud of her. Her life has not been easy. She is my only child from my first marriage-my first marriage was ugly-so ugly. She was little, I left her dad when she was 2 years old. She has seen and knows way more than I give her credit for when it comes to the strained relationship with my ex-husband. She has struggled through her youth trying to figure out where she fits in with her families.  Both her dad and I have remarried and have children with our current spouses. For my daughter it has been a constant struggle deciding which family is truly hers. We have had times of attempted suicide, cutting, and poor boyfriend choices. Her confidence in herself and her abilities were never enough in her mind. We have done lots of therapy and faith based counseling. She was never a trouble maker with the school or the law but she had trouble building relationships and trust with peers. At different times in her life I have carried the guilt of what if’s. What if I stayed with her dad, what if I said the wrong thing, what if I didn’t express my love for her enough….what if? In response to those what if’s I over compensated with what I felt she was lacking in. That was my responsibility and I own that. I noticed a few years ago I was beginning to raise an entitled snot. I panicked-how is she going to make her way in this world thinking everything is owed to her? So we dug our heels in and changed our approach and it was NOT easy for her or for me. Lots of tears. So yes, maybe I do high 5 her a little too often when she accomplishes something that seems so minor to those looking from the outside in.

My middle child is 15. He is the most big hearted, generous person I know. His love for all things living and outdoors is beyond anything I can comprehend. My son is the spitting image of his father. Laid back and never makes a mountain out of a mole hill. Until last year….he was a freshman…he became involved with the wrong crowd and has made some terrible choices. He was in trouble with the law and at the school. He was suspended from school and was charged with possession of marijuana. Is this anyone’s fault but his own? Yes-it is-NOT his peers or the “wrong crowd”-it was OURS as parents. Hindsight is always 20/20 and there were many red flags that we noticed after the fact that we should’ve been on top of to begin with. We were too busy comparing him to our oldest daughter to recognize that he is his own person with different needs. He has a slight learning disability and has never quite fit in with the 8 other boys in his class..yes, only 9 boys total in his class. He was hanging out with kids that were way too old for him to be hanging out with, leading up to his suspension and charges, the weekend before we discovered he had been sneaking out his window late at night and I chalked it up to normal teenage kid stuff. Thing is-not normal for him. When I say this child is the most delicate, loving, caring child-I mean it. So breaking our rules, lying, being deceitful, hurtful..was not in his nor had it ever been in his description of character and who he is. I cried and lost many nights of sleep and still do. I was raised by an alcoholic drug addict and I sincerely fear for my son. This is not the life I want for him. This is an ongoing situation with him, currently. We are about a year out from his charges and have had little to no issues since then. He is on probation. However, it’s still there, the fear I have of him becoming a drug addict. He has the signs, they are there. One might read this and think it was “just” marijuana and that may be true, but he is my son and I recognize an addictive personality when I see one. He is back in football this year, his grades are good and he’s trying real hard to straighten out his mistakes. He has reached out to teachers and said he wants to start over on the right foot. So when you hear me cheer for him a little too loud and a little too long for catching the 2-point conversion pass-just know that it may be ridiculous to you that I am so excited but to him, I and his dad-if he is going to be an addict its going to be for something that is good-addicted to the rewards of doing a good job! That long and loud cheer is cheering for all the steps he has made in the right direction.

My last, but certainly not least, child is 7. She is crazy! She is a perfect combination of my older 2. She is in the first grade and is busy learning to read, write, and all those other things that goes along with 1st grade.  It’s been a long time since I have had a 1st grader and it’s crazy to see how fast they change! I wonder what life has in store for her? Fortunate for us but probably unfortunate for her our older 2 have broken us in to being more aware of what trials and tribulations the kids face these days. I am 42 years old and things have changed tremendously since I was in school.

So yes-maybe I cheer too loud or pat on the back too often and boast about my child too much. Some days I can acknowledge and appreciate that “just showing up” took everything they had that day. I am trying my hardest to raise independent, kind, respectful children. It Takes A Village To Raise A Child is accurate in many ways but on those days where I am overwhelmingly boastful please don’t judge me or my child. There are reasons. They are perfect to me and needed to be reminded of that today. They are the greatest loves of my life.

-Love to you all, Kim