I’m 30 years old, Mom, and he still tells me this.
Some things never, ever change and I am glad that they don’t sometimes…at least this time. Because other things change much, much too quickly.
Like the reality that she is 30 and they are 8 turning 9 (in SEVEN WEEKS) and 5.
Was it a bad day for you too?
I mean, it’s not every day the Mother Of All Bombs gets dropped…RIGHT???!!! What else could happen? Two thin-skinned, narcissistic despots with nuclear weapons poised for a pissing contest – okay!
Was it a bad day for you too?
It couldn’t get any harder except for just navigating the day in pain. Yes, still. It couldn’t possibly get any harder, any more stressful.
Not a stellar day in the life of parenting a neuro-diverse kid.
Gonna try harder. Gonna do better. Tomorrow. It’s all that I can do.
You know, Hobbes, some days even my lucky rocket ship underpants don’t help.”
~ Bill Watterson
Twenty five years ago, we met face to face for the very first time. That’s right folks, my Zoë Elizabeth is twenty five years old!
She steals my breath every time I regard her while basking in her warm, bright, shining face.
Twenty five years ago I was her mother and she was my child. Through the years we challenged one another in many ways. There were the times where I did find myself saying out loud, “I am not your friend, I am your mother.”
I might have even screamed it through an abruptly slammed door. But that is part of being a parent. I won’t lie though, I wanted to be her friend. I really, really wanted to be her friend. I have always loved talking to her, laughing with her, playing with her. Yesterday she called me her friend and with her now at twenty five, we are at a place where we can be friends.
Always her mother, always my daughter, and now my friend.
Happy birthday cheers my darling daughter and friend!
Thirty years ago, I embarked an adventure. I was fearful of the changes that were to come, but I was more anxious believing all the declarations that there would be nothing but pain that would take me into this adventure; and that there was literally nothing that I could do about it.
Accept it, they told me. Submit to it, I was advised. Wisdom passed down to me by those who had been there and done that…and who shaped me into the person who believed that I had no strength, no power in anything.
And then, Hollie was born. Thirty years ago.
Thirty years ago, I began to see some of my deepest fears about myself and realized that I was so much stronger than them.
Birth is the sudden opening of a window, through which you look out upon a stupendous prospect. For what has happened? A miracle. You have exchanged nothing for the possibility of everything.
– William Macneile Dixon
From my nothing, or at least the nothing I was raised to believe to be true about myself came the possibility of everything. Thirty years ago today, it all began.
Thirty years ago today, it all began with her.
Here again I literally gasp out loud finding it hard to believe that I am the part of someone so beautiful in all the ways…in spite of the million mistakes I have made along the way of this adventure. But I am.
Thirty years ago began the adventure.
Happy birthday my dear, darling daughter. Thanks for making me Mom.
When Bill’s father was alive, the two of them spent practically every weekend together working on cars…his car, his wife’s car, our cars, Bill’s sisters’ cars. An extended family our size, there was pretty much always a car that needed at least a little minor attention at any given time. Bill learned a lot about cars back then, especially Pintos.
He might have complained about all the time spent working on family cars, especially the ones that seemed to be used and abused the most. I doubt, though that he complained about the time spent with his Dad. I would imagine his Dad felt the same…about the some of the cars they worked on and the time spent with his adult son virtually every weekend.
And now, years later, it’s the same kids…no matter how much he grouses in front of you.
That would be why I jumped ahead of him to spend an afternoon with one of our adult kids in a Jiffy Lube, watching some of yet another Harry Potter Marathon Weekend (when is there ever NOT a Harry Potter Movie Marathon Weekend???) and talking about life, work, Kanye, school and the importance of having a clean air filter.
Truly, because hanging out with your grown-up kids is like visiting the best parts of yourself.