Advice for My Daughter

Category: Moments

  • 936 Weekends

    936 Weekends

    From the moment a baby is born, the countdown begins. You are given the gift of 936 weekends with your child before they turn 18.

    936.

    At first glance, it sounds like a lot. That’s almost 1,000 weekends. Multiply it by two and you have 1,872 weekend days.

    But ask any parent whose child has just moved out, if 936 weekends was enough.

    Did they have their fill of lazy Friday nights, curled up in blankets watching movies in their pj’s?

    Did they achieve the optimal number of Sunday morning talks over breakfast?

    Did they have just the right number of inside jokes exchanged on a Saturday afternoon?

    Did they talk enough, laugh enough, cry enough, share enough, eat enough, hug enough, dream enough, or just exist under the same roof enough in those 936 weekends?

    Probably not. 936 weekends isn’t enough…but it’s the timeline that you are given. So the question is, what are you going to do with the time you’ve been given?

    Will you spend time checking things off your endless to-do list rather than sitting down and talking about what’s going on at school? Will you shuttle them from one activity to another rather than letting them dream and create something of their own? Will you like and share posts online rather than liking and sharing your life with this incredible person who is only here for the blink of an eye?

    Will you argue about what they wear, what they eat, and what they want to be when they grow up for so many weekends that you miss all of the good stuff?

    I hope not. I hope you squeeze as many memories as you can into every one of those days.

    I hope you share secrets and hopes, provide wisdom, listen deeply, give advice when asked and stay silent when they need to do it themselves.

    I hope you dance, sing, take road trips, sit on the front porch, catch fireflies, watch powerful movies, listen to lots of music, visit museums, enjoy meals with friends, stay up too late, hike in the forest, get sand in your shoes, spend quality time with family, make art, take photos, ride roller coasters, eat ice cream, pet dogs, wear flip flops, travel to new places, and enjoy the time together while you have it.

    936 weekends will pass in the blink of an eye. Treasure every minute.

    Photo by Lonely Planet on Unsplash

  • In Praise of Slowness

    In Praise of Slowness

    Here are a few headlines that I read just today:

    Samsung Galaxy Note9: A Flagship Phone for Busy Millennials

    5 Hacks for Busy Entrepreneurs

    Parents Are Too Busy To Potty Train

    We live in a culture that worships the cult of busy. Somehow, we have been sold the idea that we will be better people, parents or employees if we can flaunt our busyness like a peacock during mating season.

    But when you move fast, you miss a lot. We’ve known this was true since the moment it came out of Ferris Bueller’s mouth:

    “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

    Don’t Miss It

    When you are busy, you are focusing on tomorrow. You are planning which box to check off next. You are driving to the practice, the game, the playoff. You’re thinking about what to do, what to buy, who to call, where to go, how to get there, who to go there with, how it will impact the next thing and the next thing and the next thing. And….

    STOP

    Busyness is the exact opposite of mindfulness. Rather than being present with the child who is directly in front of you wanting to tell you about the funny thing that happened today, you are thinking about how you are going to get this beautiful gift of a child into bed, into math, or into college.

    You are trading in the precious moment of now for the demands of some future moment. And the moment vanishes like a shooting star. It was there…then it was gone.

    Tomorrow isn’t promised to you. The only moment that matters is this one right here. Your husband wants to talk about his day…this day….the one you are currently in…not some item on your bottomless checklist of to-do’s.

    Choosing Slow is Choosing More

    When my daughter was little, it would take us 30 minutes to walk into a restaurant we enjoyed going to because she would look at every single rock in their landscaping. Every rock was special and she didn’t want to miss one of them.

    Everything is brand new and exciting to kids. They crack open their minds and soak up everything.

    Why do they do that?

    Because when you choose to walk half as fast, you get to see twice as much.

    More rocks.

    More flowers.

    More sunshine.

    More neighbors.

    More birds.

    It’s the difference between the freeway and the country road. Yes, the freeway will get you from point A to point B, but you won’t see anything in-between but Cracker Barrel billboards.

    That’s not living.

    How to Slow Down

    I encourage you to choose slowness whenever possible.

    Take the long way to work.

    Go inside the coffee shop rather than going to the drive thru.

    Opt out of the corporate ladder and sit in the middle where the view is still good, but the pressure isn’t overwhelming.

    Listen when your family wants to talk to you.

    Notice how the sky isn’t always blue, but sometimes it’s hot pink or juicy orange.

    Lay on the floor and listen to the peaceful sound of your dog breathing.

    Slow

    Everything

    Down

    Find things that you can do half as fast so that you can enjoy them twice as much.

    They Grow Up So Fast

    We are all familiar with parents saying that “they grow up so fast,” but it takes eighteen years for them to grow up. Maybe they don’t grow up fast, but we are moving too fast to notice them becoming adults.

    Don’t pass up story time so you can log in a few more hours of work.

    Don’t run through the drive through every night when you could cook a simple meal together.

    Don’t trade the private moments at home for the over-scheduled activities.

    Choose to be present.

    Choose this moment right now.

    Choose slow.

     

    Photo by Til Jentzsch on Unsplash

     

  • I Didn’t Know It Was the Last Time

    I Didn’t Know It Was the Last Time

    As our kids grow up, we often keep notebooks to log their firsts:
    • First Smile
    • First Laugh
    • First time rolling over
    • First tooth
    • First food
    • First word
    • First steps

    We share the firsts with our family, post them on Facebook and track them in baby books.

    But we never track the lasts. They slip by us unnoticed and we don’t realize their significance until much later.

    I didn’t know it was the last time I would rock you in the rocking chair.

    I didn’t know it was the last time I would carry you.

    I didn’t know it was the last time I would give you a bath.

    These milestones just snuck past me. Your childhood slipped away with a whisper. There was no announcement, no record keeping and no party.

    I didn’t know. How could I?

    How could I know that it was the last time I would read you a bedtime story?

    How could I know that it was the last time you would crawl?

    How could I know that it was the last time that you would hold my hand in the parking lot?

    I couldn’t. And now all I have are memories.

    The firsts are filled with joy, while the lasts are filled with longing because I didn’t know it was the last time.

    I didn’t know.

  • The Deal All Mothers Make

    The Deal All Mothers Make

    When you become a mother, you agree to a deal. We all do it, because it seems completely reasonable at the time, but like all contracts, the fine print doesn’t become clear until years later. It reads something like this:

    “I accept the gift of this child. I understand that they will only be little for a very short time. I will do my best to live in the moment because time will pass more quickly than I anticipate.”

    We all agree to it. That’s the deal. But we didn’t realize that being a mother means that days slow down and years speed up. So, we get caught up in the days. We change diapers. We wake up for feedings. We do laundry. And all of a sudden, we are tying their shoes on the first day of school.

    And we tell ourselves that we still have plenty of time.

    So we help with homework, take them to soccer, and buy them new shoes for the first day of middle school.

    And we tell ourselves that we still have plenty of time.

    So we help them get their drivers license, watch their heart get broken and let them order new shoes for prom.

    And we ask ourselves how they grew up so fast.

    It’s the deal that we made 18 years ago. We were told that we would have them for a very short time. But it all happened so fast.

    Their shoes are bigger than ours. They are going on dates. They know more about technology than we do. And we don’t understand how we let it slip away.

    But there is fine print with this agreement. Every year, on the second Sunday in May, we are reminded of the passing years when we celebrate Mother’s Day shortly before summer vacation. It’s a reminder not to let another summer pass us by.

    Go for walks.

    Stay up late listening to the crickets and looking at the stars.

    Ride a horse.

    Go swimming.

    Eat watermelon.

    Have a water balloon fight.

    Chase the ice cream truck.

    Share secrets.

    Laugh.

    Hug.

    Be present…in this moment…right now.

    The average lifespan is 79 years. One quarter of those were spent with our parents. Another quarter we get to spend with our children before we hear the crackle of their wings spreading wide.

    The deal was made. The contract is final. We only get to have them little for a short period of time. They will never be little again.

    Let this Mother’s Day be a reminder to put down the phone, turn off the tv and to listen instead of talk, because the years are only going to go faster. Soon, there will be no more shoes lying in the middle of the kitchen. The house will feel quiet. The car will drive away from the place they once called home.

    These years are precious. Be present. Make memories. You can keep the memories forever.

    One day I realized that I would never know my daughter as an old woman, so I wrote this letter to her that you may also enjoy. It’s also available as a downloadable printable, perfect for Mother’s Day. Happy Mother’s Day!

     

     

  • I Can See Your Heartbeat

    I Can See Your Heartbeat

    When I woke up this morning, you were still sleeping, but your body was very much awake. I looked at your arms stretched out and your little toes twitching. Then my eyes stopped when I saw your heart beating through your pajamas.

    It shouldn’t be so amazing to see a heart beating, but when I think of the long, sometimes painful, road that led me to this cloudy Monday morning in a pink bedroom where I’m watching the heart beat of a little girl who shares my last name…it’s nothing short of a miracle.

    A heart beats around 3 billion times in a lifetime. As your mother, I am acutely aware that I will be in your presence for just a small fraction of those. The number of mornings that I will get to sit on the edge of your bed and watch you, are numbered.

    And I don’t know what that number is.

    So, I silently watch in wonder while this little girl whose incredible heart is beating insistently in the shadows of a Monday morning sunrise.

    And I whisper under my breath…

    thank you

     

    Image: sure2talk on Flickr

  • Why We Have a Sleepover Every Friday Night

    Why We Have a Sleepover Every Friday Night

    Around the holidays, people tend to talk about the importance of traditions. Traditions bring families together and create a sense of stability and comfort. But the best traditions are the little ones that we drop into everyday life.

    In our home, every Friday night is night is Sleepover Night. We pull our blankets off of our beds and throw them on the floor. We stay up a little later. We laugh a little longer. And we talk. We look forward to it every week because it is the kickoff to our weekend.

    We both have so much fun on Sleepover Night because we are having our own party every week. When the blankets come off the bed, it’s time to put our work behind us and spend time as a family for the next two days.

    But Sleepover Night goes much deeper than that, because the most important thing that we do is talk.

    We laugh. We tell stories. We share ideas. And sometimes you tell your deepest feelings.

    With our feet tangled together and the moonlight shining on your face, your heart cracks open. Sometimes we find solutions and sometimes we cry. Other times we learn that some things just don’t make sense.

    As you grow older, I hope that we can continue to find space to maintain this tradition. As you become bigger, so will your problems. The conversations may become harder, but your emotions are always safe amidst the pillows and blankets on our floor.

    Yes, I love Thanksgiving and Christmas, but one of my very favorite traditions happens with the moon on my face and my dog at my feet…and it waits for me every Friday night.

     

    Image: rachel CALAMUSA

  • The Girl in the Rearview Mirror

    The Girl in the Rearview Mirror

    There’s a girl in the rearview mirror.

    This is her first time in a car. She’s sleeping soundly after recovering from her grand entrance into the world. We’ve just met, but I already love her more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life.

     

    “We’ve just met, but I already love her more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life.” (tweet this)

     

    There’s a girl in the rearview mirror.

    She can’t stop talking about how much fun she had at school. She loves her teacher. She loves her new friends. She loves music class. She loves laughing with her friends at lunch.  I’m so proud of her as she begins this great adventure. But my heart aches a little bit.

    There’s a girl in the rearview mirror.

    She’s sitting with her two besties. They are singing and talking and taking selfies. The freckles sprinkled across her nose are those of my little girl, but her legs are bumping against the back seat. She’s not a baby, but she’s not a grown up. I watch her stumble a lot, and it’s hard. But I’m proud of the young lady she’s becoming.

    There’s a girl in the rearview mirror.

    She isn’t talking as much these days. She sits quietly in the back seat texting her friends. It seems that I’m always dropping her off somewhere. I wish she was home more often. I miss her.

    There’s a girl in the rearview mirror.

    She’s quiet on the four hour drive to college. Almost everything she owns is in the trunk. I tell her everything is going to be great, but my heart is ripping apart. I’m not ready for this.

    There’s an empty spot in the rearview mirror.

    There used to be a girl there that I love more than anything in the world. She has her own car now. She lives in the city and has a job that she loves. She calls me every Sunday and comes for dinner once a month. I miss her terribly, but I’m so, so proud of her.

    There’s a girl in the rearview mirror.

    She has freckles sprinkled across her nose and she calls me grandma.

     

    Image: Sam Manon-Marwitz

     

  • I Was Late To Work Because You’re Beautiful

    I Was Late To Work Because You’re Beautiful

    There are many legitimate reasons to be late for work:
    • Traffic
    • Weather
    • The alarm didn’t go off
    • Doctor’s appointment
    • The car wouldn’t start

    My reason for being late today doesn’t appear on this list.

    I was late because you are beautiful.

    I woke up with plenty of time to do all of those weekday “must do’s.” I allowed time to shower, do my hair and makeup, eat breakfast, catch up on my news and my facebook updates, check my email, pack my lunch, pack your lunch, and get you up and dressed. Easy. I’ve planned everything perfectly.

    Before my shower, I always check in on you to see you resting well from a day of learning and playing. You were sleeping so peacefully that I decided to watch you a little longer. I wanted a closer look, so I climbed in bed next to you. I looked at your hair, your skin, the freckles sprinkled across your nose, and your little belly rising and falling with each steady breath. I saw the scrapes on your knees from a tumble you took yesterday and your little toe that curls outward.

    And time stood still.

    In the movie The Bucket List, one of the items on his bucket list is to “kiss the most beautiful girl in the world.” Spoiler alert: it wasn’t a Vanity Fair model, it was his granddaughter. And it’s true. I’ve seen beautiful things in my life: sunsets in Hawaii, brides dressed in white radiating love, autumn colors that make the forests look like they’ve caught fire. But I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in all of my life, than my daughter with one pajama leg up and one down, little hands twitching from dreams taking you to wonderful new places, while protecting your stuffed dog through it all.

    And I was frozen, though the clock ticked on. And I was late for work today.

    Because you’re beautiful.

  • The Little Things That Take My Breath Away

    The Little Things That Take My Breath Away

    Once upon a time, there was a man and a woman who dreamt of having a child. There were days when it seemed that it would never happen, but they kept hoping and praying that one day, they would hear cries in the middle of the night…cries for them.

    And one day…they did.

    And I still can’t believe that you are real. That you are my child. That you call me mommy.

    But you do. It’s real.

    So, I want you to know how grateful I am and how my breath catches by some of the littlest things. I am a mom to a little girl and these are the things I treasure:

    • Little yellow rain boots by the back door
    • Crumbs in the back seat of the car
    • Monster High stickers on my coffee table
    • Rocks in my purse
    • A refrigerator covered in drawings
    • Saturday mornings when I don’t get to sleep in
    • Katy Perry blasting in the car
    • Rocks on the kitchen table
    • A chair for one, that now squeezes in two
    • Spontaneous dance parties
    • Weekly trips to the library, loaded down with books
    • Long blonde hair in my hairbrush
    • Knock Knock jokes that don’t make sense
    • Rocks next to my bed
    • A bathroom cabinet filled with cotton balls and leaves for the fairies
    • Chalk on the sidewalk
    • Cartoons on the TV
    • Chasing down the ice cream truck
    • Kisses that work like medicine
    • The tiny toothbrush next to the sink
    • Glitter….everywhere
    • Smiles that change with new teeth
    • The endless stream of “mommy…mommy…mommy”

    When you are wishing for a child, it’s these little things that you dream of. Many of these “annoying” things are the greatest gifts I could ever imagine.

    For my birthday last year, my husband bought me my first Prada bag. It is now filled with rocks, colorful band-aids, and sugar packets.

    And I couldn’t be happier.

     

    Image by Rob MacEwen

  • Kids Don’t Grow Up Fast – They Just Grow Up

    Kids Don’t Grow Up Fast – They Just Grow Up

    Almost every parent has used the phrase “they grow up so fast!”

    I don’t think that’s true.

    You aren’t growing up fast. I think you are growing up just right. But here is the sad part:

    I’ll miss the little you.

    I once knew a five pound baby girl who loved to be held and relied on me for absolutely everything. She was my world. I would rock her to sleep, sing her lullabies and wake up to the slightest sound. She needed me….desperately. I loved her…even though we had just met. But I’ll never get to hold her again.

    She grew up.

    I once knew a two year old who would look to me for help when she fell down. My kisses were magic and could heal anything. She would sit on the floor and look at flashcards for hours. Everything was brand new to her and I was her teacher. She had this fresh new mind that was open to everything that I would say. But I’ll never get to teach that brand new mind again.

    She grew up.

    I once knew a five year old who was a little bit nervous on her first day of school and needed me to hold her hand and hug her goodbye. She didn’t know what school was. She didn’t know how to read or write. Some of the most fundamental parts of her life were still unknown. I held her hand as she went to her first day of school. She was about to begin a lifetime of learning. But I can’t take her to her first day of school again.

    She grew up.

    I don’t think kids grow up fast. I think they transform, just like butterflies. They are handed to us as larva or caterpillars and we give them the tools and the time to evolve. It’s not a quick process. It’s gradual. The confusing part is that the after looks so much different than the before.

    But is it?

    The little personality stays. The shine in the eyes stays. But the small needy person goes away. The little body is shed away like a cocoon.

    She grows wings….and she flies away.

    I want you to grow wings. I want you to fly away.

    But it will hurt.

     

    I want you to grow wings. I want you to fly away. But it will hurt.

      (tweet this)

     

    Every day, I teach you things so that you will be successful when you take flight. But I still won’t be ready when it’s time to take off.

    I want you to be a butterfly.

    So, no…I don’t think kids grow up fast, but I wish I could go back and visit that little girl every now and then. I want to hear her laugh. I want to kiss her boo-boos. I want to carry her in my arms just one more time.

    But the caterpillar is no more. She learned how to fly.