“10″
Growing up, I had a great relationship with my mom. We were always very close and sometimes, she was my sole confidant. I looked forward to the day when I would get to pass on such a treasured relationship to my own children – anticipating that since things went so flawlessly for me they would go flawlessly for any daughter God would give me to raise for Him.
Imagine my surprise, when tonight I found myself Google-ing, “How to parent your ten-year old daughter”. Today was a rough day of sorts. I had to confront my daughter about her not taking care of her responsibilities at home and getting behind in her schoolwork, even though the school year just started three weeks ago.
She stomped off to her room in a full blown tirade. (Homeschooling is not always roses). After a few minutes, I quietly followed her, in the way my mom would have done for me. She sulked, she cried, she refused to peer out from behind the book she was reading to look at me directly.
I informed her that in order to spend more time doing schoolwork, I had to confiscate her computer.
“You just like to feel powerful!” she screamed. At which point I said, “Well. You’re right, I am your mother.”
Descending down the stairs, my heart struggled with this. While I think I did the right thing, I never thought parenting a daughter would be hard for me. She really felt I didn’t understand.
Well, in a sense, she’s right. Here’s why.
I don’t understand how, after wasting so much time in my own pre-teen years on less important, less essential things, she doesn’t embrace my message of “use your time wisely!”
I don’t understand how, after waking up ridiculously early every morning for years as a teen to do a daily makeover, and a hour obsessing on my hair, that she could possibly be attracted to “doing her hair”, too. I used to spend my whole allowance on that crap! (After all, the only “cosmetic” I wear these days is a little cherry chap-stick and I’m lucky if I do much more with my hair than put it in a ponytail.)
I don’t understand how, after my self-imposed practically anorexic suffering throughout those years, that she could concern herself with wanting to be “thin”. And how, after my weight fluctuating from 115 pounds to 160 pounds during and after each of my five pregnancies that a flat stomach would be my ticket to happiness.
Right. I have no experience. How could I possibly understand?
With my search for information on Google, I came across an article that shed new light: “Ten Ways To Love Your Ten Year Old Girl“. Which basically comes down to the reason I wanted to be a mother in the first place: Love.
I have been blessed with four living daughters and one son. I can take a day to slow down…kick back…listen to them…and love them. Ask them about their dreams…be silent and let them talk. Come down from wearing my disciplinarian hat and just sit with them.
After all, they grow up so fast.
