Each of my daughters has been exactly who she was since I felt her first flutter in my belly. One responded to music, one loved it when I was driving, the other seemed to throw “Go mom” high fives whenever I swore. Today they are very bit as much distinctly who they are as ever.
Watching The Voice elimination shows brings all their stuff to the fore in stark contrast—elation, horror, ‘it is what it is’.
I do what I can to quell their nerves, calm their agitated hearts, and, honestly, devour their wholly, unapologetic “this is who I am-ness”. I envy their ability to be undiluted versions of themselves, but that’s for another day.
Today I wanted to share a post I wrote over at The Mid. If you aren’t familiar with the site, go! It’s a very fun, witty, snarky, tear-jerking, pop-culture loving site, that understands that we have grown up but can still recall with eery detail what it felt like to watch the first season of the Real World. They have been and continue to be ardent supporters of people speaking their truth.
Obviously I am drawn to stories that involve how girls are treated in this world or how they navigate through it, but I also feel like we don’t talk much about the path we take to raising them(in my car girls, but also boys), which means allowing them to explore—from music to their moods, to one day their sexuality and their dreams.
I don’t have the answers, but I have my experience, which in this case is about the silence that fills the space that was once occupied by fixing it and making it all better. This leg of the journey is about my daughter learning she can do it, not that I can.
I hope you’ll go and read it and let me know what you think.
Or let me know what you are doing.
Or anything, because honestly, at the end of the day (and the beginning and middle) we’re all just trying to do the right thing.
Read my post on The Mid.