September 20, 2012
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Raising A Daughter….and surviving.
MY LITTLE SWEETIE RAPTORDaughters are special. More special than sons because of the emotional investment required. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my son’s very much, but a daughter brain is more of a challenge than a son’s brain. As an example, I once told my 14 year old son how important it was to me that his sister only date good boys and also how important it was to me that he also be a good boy. He asked did that mean he had to date his sister? In retrospect, it‘s funny now, but back then I worried a lot about him and his misfiring synapses. In the final analysis, all my son’s did well, but, as for my daughter, she held my blood pressure and apoplexy hostage for years.
Back then, any competent astronomer could predict with absolute accuracy just where every star in the universe would be at 11:00 at night, but none of them could predict where my teenage daughter could be at that time. Boyfriends were my nemesis and archrivals for my daughter. My beautiful daughter was like a flower that filled my world with beauty, and like a flower, sometimes attracted pests. These pests came in all complexions and mentalities and were like Mongol warriors ravaging the land with hopes of ravishing my daughter.
I know I was tough on the guys, but it was to protect my little girl and her….you know….assets, which she poorly protected. I remember the breakfast table debates over her clothes. After spending over hour in the bathroom, (I could rule out reading), she would come to the table dressed like it was Casual Sex Day at school. “No way, young lady. You need to cover some of that terrain before frostbite sets in.”
“This is the style,” she would yawn.
“You dress like those entrepreneurs walking up and down Madison street!”
“Well at least there, I’d get to wear what I want.”
“You know, your gonna hate prison, cause everyone’s gonna be dressed just like you!” I would grunt.
“Please say I was switched at birth,” she would groan while she ate yogurt. My eyes would cross and her Mom would intervene and tell our daughter not to upset me, else I might end up having dinner with Jesus later. So, some sort of fashion compromise would be made between her and her mom, but I knew once she was out the door, that the compromise would be null and void.
She would then scamper out the front door to wait on her current boyfriend. They knew never to pull into my driveway and honk, unless they were delivering a package, because they sure as hell would not be picking one up. Most of the boys she corrupted were afraid of me and every time I met one, I always put on my best zombie sneer. Each guy she dated for the first time, I would always slipped him a note with the address of the Immaculate Transgressor Convent in Cloverdale. I then whispered that if he ever got her home later than midnight, that he was to just turn around and deliver my daughter to the convent and then he needed to go and join the Navy. Seemed to have worked, and few, if any, ever dated her again.
Well, she finally grew up and in spite of her Mom’s cuddling, she did well. She, and her Navy husband, gave us two wonderful granddaughters that I spoil each time I visit. They will be teenagers soon and I can’t wait!
Comments (13)
Being a single Mom it was even more exciting. But the story still reads the same. I found out, quite by mistake, that my daughter had clothes stashed at a ‘way station’ of her chosing so she could change clothes before getting to school and before getting home. She knew she’d been caught when her clothes turned up missing and she had to arrive home looking like one of those street walkers you were talking about. She told me years later she hated the fact that either her brother or I kept her in our sights for a very long time after that. The Grandaughter, now 20 something, was much more grounded and her Mom was also a single parent. Perhaps my daughter learned something after all. *smile…
Been there done that. But I love the way you have described here teenage years. Thank you.
so. her guy joined the navy. but she didn’t join the convent?
teenage daughters. yes, indeed.
Yes indeed, my daughter had similar effects on the universe!
I raised boys and most of the time was a single Mom while hubby, their Father, was out chasing sluts. Current hubby is not that hubby. I basically told them to keep their pants up and zipped. I thought it was pretty easy although we had our moments, especially with the youngest who is 36 now, and doing well in life.
Then along came my teen age grand daughters and they are pretty. Their folks are divorced and they live with their Mom. Their Father, my son, scares the would be boyfriends to death, but nothing like Granny. I tell them I have a baseball bat, a loaded gun, and a ping on the grand daughters cell phones gps.
Oldest grand daughter always says, if you think my Dad is bad, wait til you mean my Grammy.
Oldest looked at me when she was 17 and told me i was going to scare away every boy she liked and she was going to grow up to be an old maid. Hey I thought i was a good idea.
They are all grown up now except for the 15 year old and she hasn”t learned yet:):)
This was fun and sweet to read.
Thank you for sharing that story with us… Great read!
When I was 17, my mom hexed me with, “I wish you a daughter of your own one day!!” Who knew she had such power? Sadly, she didn’t stick around long enough to witness my just desserts, but boy, it’s true what they say (whoever “they” are): ”What goes around comes around.” I have similarly hexed my own daughter. Now I’m just waiting to see if I get to stick around and watch the payback.
@MzSilver - Stashed clothes brings back memories. Do teenage girls have a secret book of sneakiness that they pass down from one generation to another?
@ZSA_MD - Hard fought years.
@promisesunshine - Got ta love em…..
@BootLady - Family curses can be terrible in the wrong hands.
@LALALANDFM - Thank you hon.