Saturday, July 7, 2012

Dear Daughters, Don't Hate Me


Tonight you and I saw the Disney movie, Brave. You said the funniest things, like "these are our moving tickets, mom" and explained what waiting in line meant to the people behind us, in case they hadn't heard me tell you about thirty five seconds earlier. I cried for an inappropriate portion of the film. I saw and me and you (well, you and I the way we used to be all the time, and are becoming less and less every day) in the mother and little girl in the beginning, hiding and playing and holding you down in my lap pretending to eat you up. I really could have eaten you, little kids young enough to have any trace of baby in them smell simply delicious, its just an indisputable fact. Then when the movie cut to the girl as a ornery teenager, I especially saw you. Which is beyond depressing. You are only four. You are not supposed to hate me that much yet. I'm so sorry I'm not a better, more patient mom. But to be fair, you've declined your fair share of my invitations for second (and third and twentieth) chances to act reasonably. Dear child, don't you know that it is much easier, faster, and far less emotional for me to put away your toys for you, put your clothes with the dirty clothes for you, put your garbage in the trash for you, put your plates in the sink for you, and get you ready to leave on my own, rather than the tedious, drawn out, pain staking mission that it is to coerce you to do these things for yourself? I don't push you to do them because it makes my life any easier, lassy (shut up, I'm still hearing all the Scottish talk from the movie in my head). It doesn't make my life easier, you never want to do them, there is always lots of wailing and gnashing of teeth. I do it because I love you, because I want you to love you. And as much as I want you to belong to me forever and ever and ever, you won't ever love yourself if you feel like you aren't your own. And if I always do everything for you, if you can't learn to start trusting yourself to things, you won't ever feel like your own. I still feel so helpless half the time, like I want to call all the "adults" in my life because they should be handling these things I feel I can't do on my own. It's an awful feeling. I want to empower you. I want to empower so much more than I want to possess you, and believe me, as much as I love the living daylight out of you despite your defiance, I want to possess you forever. I want to empower you more than I want to possess you, because I love you. So. Much. Even though you resist all of my efforts, 99.89% of the time, with all the piss and vinegar in you (of which there is plenty), and make me feel like you don't even like me. I love you that much, so please, don't hate me. I promise to make more dates with you so that we have many pleasant memories for you to draw from when you're grown.

I love you so much. Did I already say that?
I love you.