The Adventures of Mothers and Daughters

‘She had been a teenager once, and she knew that, despite the apparent contradictions, a person’s teenage years lasted well into their fifties.’ —Derek Landy

Does it mean I’m getting my job done as a mother when my daughter says, “Mom, you can be protective, just not over-protective.” I like to believe this is true, especially when I feel the urge to micro-manage her independent, free-spirited nature and keep her safe inside boundaries surrounded by love and encouragement.

My soon to be teenager rolls her eyes at me a lot more these days. It’s a curious phenomenon, and opportunity for me to take things less personally.  I feel I’m not only getting my job done as a parent, but also creating moments for us to find common ground, go with the flow, and have fun together.

On the other side of rolled eyes and heavy sighs, I have new appreciation for how it feels to be her age. I remember everything was embarrassing. My mother had her own gardening business when I was a teenager.  She and my Aunt drove around in a big white van, dressed in overalls and big straw hats.

I found out later they made a decent wage as dirt-loving entrepreneurs. All I remember is they were a couple of decent weirdos. My cousin and I told them to drop us off a block away from school so no one would see us.

I reflect on this when I see Simone dressed in overalls, stripe t-shirt, and two pony tails.  We’re jammed in our tiny bathroom. I say, “Hey, who gets to visit a buffalo farm today?!”  She matches my enthusiasm, “US!” Then, I quickly push my luck, “Those overalls are so cute on you.  I’ve been looking for a pair in my size.” She says, “No don’t… You’re weird.”

This adventure starts from screening a friend’s film the night before, Arrangiarsi, Pizza and the Art of Living and he introduces us to the Double 8 Dairy Farmer providing buffalo milk gelato at the event.  He’s such a kind man and says, “Come visit the farm anytime.”  I say, “Is tomorrow to soon?!”  He not only coordinates a tour, but also informs us a newborn jersey cow needs a name.  After connecting with the herd and gently nuzzling the baby soft spots, we leave with a pint of their delicious Fior di Latte, a jersey cow namesake, and bonding time blessed by the buffalos.

We polish off the ice cream on the drive home and round out the day with a happy dance in front of her bedroom closet mirrors.  When the dog looks nervously to the cat for reassurance from my dance moves, I feel grateful we all tumble on the floor in a heap of sugar-high, barking goofiness.

On a side note, I said to Simone, “I’d like to read you something I’m posting and see if you have any major objections.” When I told her my original title, The Adventures of Mother and Daughter Teenage Mutants, she said, “Lose the Teenage Mutants part.” I said, “What would you call it instead?”  Her response, “Simone is Amazing.”  We both laughed.  I love this girl.  For more of our trials, tribulations, and celebrations, follow the link to my blog post Mother and Daughter Crossing

As always, ignite your light and let it shine bright!